the flicker and flame
of small twigs burning
returns light to the stars.
the rumble of distant thunder
in every leaf that falls.
a prayer held in every
dropp of rain… a baby
born in the face of
every mountain’s movement…
the depth of love raging
beneath the snows of winter….
death, or spring….. time decides….
each has it’s own cup!
each has it’s own flame!
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perhaps we are then elephants,
drinking tea from cracked cups,in a kitchen that needs to be swept!or small burning things,that no longer have form.the cat in the windowof the abandoned house!clothes waiting to be ironed,potatoes waiting to be peeled.hymnals in jail cells,the book under the bed.feet that need washed,the knife grown dull.the grave unmarked,neath the tree that weeps!
tick tock, growling thunder,
the ghosts of deathwalk among us….with faces we canalmost remember, almost…nowhere to hide!cant wipe the tastefrom our lips….we look in the mirrorat swords drawnand bitter eyes lostin the blindness and the fury….self destroys self…tick tock… this aint Jesus calling!
the day we
on Japanhumanity steppedfrom the shadowsand choseto become God!a job for whichwe were not,and are notqualified!
the small lamp
burns strong with silence,and waits without reason.the pawprint of the dogbeneath the window,identifying emptiness.and the broom in the corner,stands ever on guard.the book of passage unread,urine stained sheets.even god almightycant control the wind,that blows through the window,and fills the room.while babies are born,and wars are stopped.yet the earth waits without breath,for the coming of love!
i write…
with all consuming fire,burning every branch of self.i doubt all…and therefore believe,touching the untouchables,with reverence and awe.i chant…with dirty hands plowing,urine drenched eyes searching,living beneath all thought.i mourn…hearing the lament of dead bodies,doubled over with hunger,no place to lay my head.i burn…with uncontrolled passion,for the leaf, for the river,and the prayers of small children.i run…just…
baby, i’ve been to Babylon,
i’ve smelled the stinkof poverty’s greed.i’ve lain helplessin your burnt out apartment.and sold my soul,to fill the need.i’ve seen god,and walked with the devil.i’ve stood naked,while the building burned.i’ve been the storm,destruction and hungerin the executioner’s line,just waiting my turn!so dont give me half empty,half full, or half lit.dont kiss me and leave me,saying you’ll…