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Mathew Daniel Poem
The surface is truly strange
a facet full of facade
my heart is singing;
a strange chant...
"the words are unclear like mud water"
sinking the ship of a volatile voyage
in the abyss of loneliness
"don't rule with me" the lily cursed
cursed to live with grisly scales of thorny pinches
preach to me the noble words of soothing pity
they call it prayer
a way of saying "go away but don't be mad"
I have carried a cross without Simon of Cyrene
the appearance is pitiful
because of a misconceived analogy
even the pedagogues have failed
don't cry...
t'is a vision for one
Copyright © Mathew Daniel | Year Posted 2019
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Mathew Daniel Poem
We had no piece to write
but a story to recite,
Of bricks and straws,
moulded to walls,
With springs of sweat
that soiled the earth,
And splashes of blood,
And tears we build.
We had no song to sing
but a dirge to raise,
Of filth and dung
Without a praise,
Darted at us
With hateful force
And mockery words
That kills our minds.
We had no clothes to wear
But scars and despair
That made us scared
On our burdened bed.
No sorrow for our blistered palms,
Ti's for our warfare arms
To wave our lovely ones
And fight for our eerie bones.
©Mathew Daniel
Copyright © Mathew Daniel | Year Posted 2019
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Mathew Daniel Poem
I cried "my father" less twice
Say thrice for I called the second
Hiding my scared face from the lightening flash
True the light is light
Or what else could be lighter?
After weaning through acclaimed deception
Embracing the light in truth that has its root in lies
Scientifically proven by Xs and Ys
And Constants “K” and/or measured in Joule
I forbid the memory that flashes in this forest of night
Hammering in my head
Even in the light the thunder-strike thunders
Shaking the sole of my toe-less feet in repulsive horror of sleep
Sleeping wide awake, remembering the cooing bird of noontime
Lost in echoing thought…With watery eyes like rain waiting its turn
“Wait for the morning when light chases dreams and terror is silent”
Copyright © Mathew Daniel | Year Posted 2018
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Mathew Daniel Poem
The last time we smiled was our first
Sharing the news with grins of fine texture
Like infants joy at mother’s milk
Dancing to a new freedom like children in a moonlight play
The first time we smiled was our last
Our face transformed to wrinkles
As smiling evaporates
Leaving us to feast on soury sweat of a new bond
The frown on our face is the first
Unsure of the cause of natural orbit
Why we fight with tiny laboring ants over tiny crumbs
Then we ask the trees to bear us fruits
When we water them with sweat
After an exhausting fruitful naught,
We sing with ‘cheer’ “O God of creation…”
Copyright © Mathew Daniel | Year Posted 2018
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Mathew Daniel Poem
Sighs broke the mirror of my yesterday
The breath I drew from the chimney of my lit nonchalance fogged the vision of my broken mirror
Attempts to wipe a smudge created a tainted facet - a polluted surface
My mother told me it must be taken out
She told me of a new mountain of creation
Where visions are clearly seen
Where the memories of my infancy can be remembered
O mirror that cut my infant palm
A drop of blood is all that's shed
A pool of tears is left to dry
Copyright © Mathew Daniel | Year Posted 2019
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Mathew Daniel Poem
Call me from my cave out
Draw me out, not with threading
Lift me up with thunderous roaring pitch,
See how much I'll cause a wonder
I am the sword unsheathed among thorns.
Beware ye unfearing beings
My cut runs deep.
Again I call, cast me not away
For without me all wonder is not
I am the owl calling through the forest of nights.
Beware of my taming talons
Blunt in a thousand years rust
Yet I wound the bones of the most valiant
My berth, my cave, the passage of meaty thorny flesh
Conjoined to the weakest guts.
I have a fleshy beak
I peck not on wood, Wits are my gainful prey
In the beginning was not me,
But in me was the beginning.
Copyright © Mathew Daniel | Year Posted 2018
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Mathew Daniel Poem
The cowboys' farm is never free from till
Their order is communicated through the whip
To the horses that pull the plough
Yes! Their whips are long and dreadful
It reached them from every side
They scamper at the sound of their voice
It is heard like the sound of a wolf
In the ‘fool moon’
They hide their shriveled mind
Under the pelt scarred by the whip
As their voice ring back in trembling tone
They're overturned by a mightier force
A saviour they thought
A despot he turned out
He was born, nourished and suffered alike
He turned the table round, with fiercely strength
And snatch them from their masters
But on their backs he also rode
A bigger whip he raised
The bruises remain and the pain never left.
Copyright © Mathew Daniel | Year Posted 2018
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