Long Crown of thorns Poems
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In the moments just before dawn, before the brilliance of the morning sun, arises hope because love has won. Oh, yes, His love has born a heart who is forever adoring, always outpouring the joy that was born because – even though He’s the King of Kings, He chose a crown of thorns – by poet
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The brilliance of a springlike dawn, dazzling,
Resembling the face of joy, the Son,
Coloring the heart in tranquility, silent, smiling
Blending with the music of birdsong and tears,
Erasing the darkness,
Calming the soul, hope in patterns,
Years imagined, then lived,
Like a new moment, just poured,
From the living waters, the liquid, smooth.
breathless swaying,
Dancing with grace, creating softness, subtle,
Illusions, dawn, who grows fires of faith,
Feelings that live to worship the King,
Falling away from the past, the pain,
Surviving the thousand deaths of a promise,
When hearts were torn by the maze of despair,
Burning through the night,
Twilight rising on the trembling,
Moon thrown like starlight,
Blazing in the noiseless skies, abiding
Where He reminds the soul to listen to His voice,
Tenderness erasing the distance,
Between doubt and hope, fear and faith,
Loathing and loving, the melody,
Rising beyond the seas of intimacy,
Pining for the right time to say, with absolute,
Authority – today is the day,
Forever whispering to the night,
He is alive! Yes! He is alive!
His light burns bright, silencing the night,
Expressing the love that only He could have burned,
Into my heart, my soul, my spirit…
Love that comes to live in those who believe,
He is risen so we’re no longer in prison.
Yesterday has gone – Today, we live on!
I can see it now
Through the dismal mist
Pass the sorrowful heather.
With it's impotent beige bloom
Mossy fungal stone
Strangled by ivy contagion.
Up above,
Jackdaws seeking justice
Squabble and shreik.
Each one with a crown of thorns.
I sit,
Beguiled by a simplistic beauty
Under a pitiful April sky.
Forgetting all the constructions of man.
Up here,
The foundations of convictions
Can start to shake.
I could easily slip
Into the rhythms of ancient silent prayers
And sing softly those tragic hymns,
To doleful face cattle
Chewing obediently on everlasting cud.
Quo Vadis Domine?
Where are you going Lord through dust of stars breathing in the cosmic void,
through abandoned cathedrals full of prayers petrified in knees of stone,
through the shadows of your light that blinds seers with pupils of intense azure,
where do you flee on the winding road that leads nowhere through the desert of the heavens?
I saw you in the icon erased by tears of sweet and salty cream,
in the garden of frozen time where flowers await their eternity in suspension,
on your vertical cross raised toward the skies beyond human understanding,
in your red wine that intoxicates the awakening of prophets who hear only silence!
Your transparent blood flows through veins of marble cold as ancient ice,
wearing your crown of thorns sharp as blades of black and shining obsidian,
where are you going Lord through the infinite desert of loneliness populated by echoes,
through the world of your mortal man who dissolves in each moment that passes?
I heard your silent footsteps resonating in the deep darkness of the moonless night,
on your narrow path that forks toward nowhere and everywhere simultaneously,
carrying your heavy cross made from the dense matter of the ancestral cosmos,
where do you flee Lord remaining always somewhere in your exile without destination?
I search for you through the complicated labyrinth of the single road that branches forever,
in your ruined cathedral built from bricks of air and pulverized stones,
in the empty altar covered with unspilled sacrifices of your ancient blood of millennia,
where are you going Lord through my heart that beats in your infinite vastness?
Quo vadis in the azure of intense dawn when morning is born from darkness,
through your gate opened to the garden of Eden lost in its own labyrinths,
with your hands full of deep wounds that carry infinity in palms of man,
where are you going Lord when all roads lead to you in concentric circles?
I baptized with burning tears my question that howls in your deserted temple,
after your icon that fades in each gaze that sees too deeply,
in our world where souls dance petrified in their eternal waiting,
quo vadis Domine through the endless ocean of your being that fills the universe?
Tug-of-War
Alpha Dog
Carnivore
Locked our horns
Power struggle
Crown of thorns
Neither bows nor bends nor folds
Instead digs their heels
Leans in and holds
Under weights of worlds shouldered
Beneath catching fires smoldered
They juxtapose
Until the end
And so it goes
Protect; defend
Both yearning to submit, surrender
Though, coward, that would them then render
So instead they hold strong their positions
Each declaring their conditions
Never has this strategy
Ended anyway but tragedy
So each side is shocked and shorn
Strewn about, tattered, torn
Daughters, Mothers and Wives scorn
From empty houses
Alone; forlorn
Forever after they will wait
By the fire
Or at the gate
Until the day they receive
News, that from this horror,
There's no reprieve
Oh! What a weary world of woe
To see a pious man, laid low
A pitiless look, from Godless eyes
Barabbas luck, means His demise
His destiny, to be betrayed
That Judas kiss, a liar made
A King of Kings, in paupers clothes
A Crown of Thorns, His sweet repose
For He’s no friend of mine, he cried
Three times condemned, three times denied
Wash clean the sins, from guiltless hands
A barbaric end, the mob demands
Your truth lies closer to the bone
Your fate is theirs and theirs, alone
They claim you, as their King of Jews
Is this the epitaph, you choose
Her dream, her life, her wondrous joy
Her son, her blood, her little boy
Her pleas for mercy, peal in vain
As blood falls from his face, as rain
Not wanting, of His pains to blur
He drinks not of the Wine and Myrrh
To lay His life down, for mankind
The Heavens weep its Angels blind
A final thrust, centurions spear
The Miracle of Christ is clear
Released from Earthly bonds, His prison
The third day down, the Lord is Risen…
Your eyes, a storm, a captivating fire
Pulled me in close, fueled by raw desire
Whispers started, shadows in the night
Tales of broken hearts, in pale moonlight
A legacy of pain, a trail you leave behind
Twisted satisfaction, tearing up your mind
State of emergency, declared inside my head
Sirens scream your name, a warning I have read
I'm not apologizing, for slamming shut the door
You're a hurricane of chaos, I can't ignore
A State of emergency, saving what's left of me
From guilt hungry, eternally.
Wear your father's madness, a crown of thorns
Repeating patterns, since the day you were born
Chasing fleeting pleasure, power in the fall
But guilt's a hungry monster, it will swallow all
Reconciliation's empty, without a debt repaid
A license to destroy, another life betrayed
A State of emergency, declared inside my head
Sirens scream your name, a warning I have read
I'm not apologizing, for slamming shut the door
You're a hurricane of chaos, I can't ignore
A State of emergency, saving what's left of me
From guilt hungry, eternally.
We're oil and water, baby, a volatile mix
You crave the drama, I just need the fix
Of peace and quiet, sanity restored
I said what I said, and every word I meant
Is the truth, my dear, a line you can't erase
You got what you want, a tragic, empty space.
State of emergency, declared inside my head
Sirens scream your name, a warning I have read
I'm not apologizing, for slamming shut the door
You're a hurricane of chaos, I can't ignore
A State of emergency, saving what's left of me
From guilt hungry, eternally.
Eternally forever...
In a State of emergency…
Gasoline and Fire
You're not me… And I’m not you...
They sang to stars, to flowers pale with dew,
To hearts that bled beneath the waning moon;
Yet every song they wove from sorrow grew,
Each note a dirge, each rhyme a fading tune.
The world too heavy, pressing on their soul's,
A crown of thorns their tender temples bore;
Love fled like whispers, leaving them to hold,
And silence reigned where song had dwelt before.
Oh, cruel muse, who blessed them with your fire,
Yet cursed their fragile hearts with too much pain,
You led them, blind, to cliffs of dark desire,
And cast them down in seas of endless rain.
In lonely nights, they felt the stars grow cold,
No voice to soothe the ache of barren skies,
The ink that spilled their griefs a tale retold
Of lives unlit, consumed by unseen love.
Yet still their words endure, though they are gone,
A burning flame no tempest can erase.
Through death, they live—each verse, a tender dawn,
Each line a kiss of beauty's fleeting grace.
Why did they fall? Perhaps to teach us this:
A poet's soul must brave the abyssal deep,
To find the truth in love’s elusive kiss,
And wake the world from its eternal sleep.
I heard a knock-knocking on the door.
It was my childhood self, visiting my adult life.
What had I achieved? it asked,
and where had I been?
Was pay equal yet? it wanted to know,
is heaven still a dream?
Heaven, it pondered, is it here on earth
in butterfly wings and melting snow?
It is spiralling in Dante’s nine circles, loved by Venus,
or simply in the cry of a new-born?
Heaven, it mused, is it above us in the air,
exploding in stardust, travelling like light to an eye?
Is it cradled between fingertips in a Vatican chapel,
or is it felt in pats on the back, any small success?
I looked at my childhood self,
unsure of this placed called Heaven.
Was it aflame inside a Jewish Menorah,
or walking in Jannah, a Muslim-named paradise?
Was it in beads of blood upon a crown of thorns,
or swaddled with first born sons chosen as a sacrifice?
So, with forefingers and thumbs I
made a rectangle with both hands.
“It’s in here”, I told my childhood self, “whatever
you see in this space from where you stand.”
Total and with pure love; loved more than anyone who has or will ever live.
He being filled with heavenly compassion for all those who have sinned.
Humbled oneself, to gladly serve all of fallen humanity ills.
Led, cared, shared, instructed, provided and protected most unselfishly.
No one can say, me too; but “Jesus” only He can Redeem.
He derived the most severe, of any physical beating.
Those red strips that covered His whole body, did scream out!
A plucked beard, a black eye with a bruised bloodied body.
A crown of thorns, a spear piercing His side and cross hung.
No one can certainly say, me too but say, "Not me too."
For Jesus only, He only, can Redeem.
Persecuted, used and abused and falsely accused.
He forgave and forgot all abusers and false accusers too.
Obedient to the way, the will and the words of God the Father.
The “Eternal Son” begotten mortal.
The image and glory of the God head radiant.
"Let us say, "Not me too," for “Jesus,”
He can save, redeem; if we repent and truly believe.
“The Eternal Son” raised glorified with unlimited redemption.
The creative order of God revealed to angels; men and women as decreed.
A bountied kiss and reward of its claim
killed a Son and King in a crown of thorns -
not Jew or Gentile would forget his name
nor wash away that holy blood of scorn.
Sole heir to an everlasting possession,
I fear I am lost to your inheritance,
who mute unto my own intercession
wearily keeps me close at a distance.
Was on the carried cross at Calvary
a holy man who lived and died for me?
Truly I wait for such promised things
and the return of the King of Kings!
I wander deserts of famine and drought
and hunger for manna from heaven,
but gravely my roam and victual without
feeds me only on crumbs of leaven.
Save me for a ransom and hear my cry
lest I not see my life’s reformation,
and lift me up lest you leave me to die
in the wilderness of my creation.
Was on the carried cross at Calvary
a holy man who lived and died for me?
Truly I wait for such promised things
and the return of the King of Kings!
Written: August 1992