Oh We Are Contained by Brittle Ways and Feasted Upon by a Horde of Ravenous Locusts

Okay . . . this is me in my rawest, most undisciplined form.  Trust me, I half expect to be crucified for even posting this, so get out your literary hammers and nails and have a field day.  This came out in one long burst in the early hours of the morning . . . it is not in its final form, in fact, there may never be a final form, because there's a good possibility that it will eventually end up in the trash can where it probably belongs.  Anyway, today I expose myself nakedly before you . . . don't trip over the warts!





OH WORLD of gold and silver that fails to ease
        the flowing of acidic teardrops falling down
        like fading stars in the galaxy of the heart,
        history moans with shattered music,
        cascades through the years, erases the spirit as                 
        easily as a child’s simple chalk drawing.
Oh this mish mash of discombobulated words
        that collapse from my pen daily, seeking
        a rudimentary prayer that may be answered —
        all these moments careening over
        the precipice of language and watching phrases
        smashed upon the bleak stones
        of non communication.
What be their purpose, in what land do I dwell,                         
        splattered like a mad neophyte,
        struggling to tap into a hieroglyphic                                   
        that may never be translated,
        the muse dressed in foreign clothing,
        its tongue lapping like a dying sea at the edge
        of the sand?
A few of us, we gesture with the movement of trees
        bowing down, we barter our leaves,
        longing to be kissed in the petalled mouths 
        of flowers, we pick away at the fossilized bark
        that eradicates the ever growing sap of existence.
OH WORLD . . . I look into my lover’s eyes
        and see a swirling nebulae of despair,
        I see crescent moons trying to welcome me home,
        I see her shivering light as it reaches out in                       
        desperation to my own shivering light.
We embrace in spiritual snow banks,
        cling to one another, hold on to the slightest
        glimmer of hope that radiates between
        our ever seeking bodies.
Oh what motivates this continuum of bone and flesh,               
        what birthing will alleviate
        this long sad fall into an abyss of unknowing?
And yes, it is true that I ramble with the voice
        of a demented scorpion as I try to escape
        this global insanity that consumes me daily.
It colours my sight in the greyness of complacency,
        it beats like a drum upon desolate plains
        where I am greeted by ghost forms that warn
        of coming planetary doom.
OH WORLD, your black book of history refuses to be closed,
        it laughs into our faces of loss
        and displays a montage of bloody oceans,
        it reveals an infant waving goodbye
        to its misunderstood mother,
        it slams a rusty door into the horrified face
        of benevolent knowledge.
Oh how may we find joy in a world that is exhausted?
        the bones of the past are piled up
        at the entrance of the mysterious womb,
        the fruit of knowing rots upon the ground,
        the tragic dirge of humanity just drones on and on
        while beauty tries to caress itself back to relevancy.
And our souls, our souls that are clothed in a moth
        eaten garment, stagger toward a horizon
        that is without moon or starlight.
A collective of tarnished coins stain our hands,
        the locusts ravage nightly, born from a massacre
        of shadows and planetary sorrow.
OH WORLD, I kiss the cheek of my child,
        feel the warmth beneath her skin,
        wonder how long before society’s cold relentless
        finger will touch and sicken her innocent heart.
I live on the other side of midnight,
        I try to remember past smiles,
        I stare toward the fading moon and converse
        only with myself.
Crosses line the boulevard, unseen be the majority,
        but they are there, waiting to be filled,
        mounted by the buckled bodies
        of those who pursue opulence
        and not the simple truth of a ladybug’s wing,
        glistening in the mid day sun.
OH WORLD, we shudder as if we are minstrels                     
        quivering on sidewalks that only mirror Winter,
        our songs frozen dewdrops of expression
        that never melt into deliverance.
Branches leafless, the frog and turtle mud bound,
        the lovers of the world lying in a bed of cold
        questioning, playing at passion as if it were                     
        another commodity to be traded
        on the stock market of misunderstood emotion.
Silence holds treasures still unformed,
        the malleable putty of time and space
        rests in inexperienced hands,
        waiting for a master craftsman to spiritually                     
        transform it, release it like an unseen bird
        into a sky resplendent with visionary light.
OH WORLD, a carnival of dust and continuously
        breathing skulls just travels from one part
        of the globe to another,
        perpetuates its non benediction of violent illusion,
        while children bounce balls upon concrete fields
        and as their parents stare blankly at t.v. screens
        the ozone layer is depleted and the moon
        is raped of its mystery.
Must all images of mangers, happy infants
        and purposeful wombs be erased from
        a landscape where we were once young
        and hungry to satiate ourselves at the feet
        of the wise?
Must we cower like a beaten dog at the edge of the gate,
        must the Buddha’s serene face be smashed
        by hammers forged in a fire of black sutras,
        does Christ still hang upon the tree
        while darkness continues to seep through
        the holes in the tattered garment of humanity?
OH WORLD, an unseen plague reeks havoc across
        the land, but we have no desire to arrest its                     
        spread . . . the stars bleed as we continue
        to even poison snow and a child’s laughter.
We worship a messiah who bears metallic black wings
        while the dark eyed beetle turns away in sorrow.
Pinnacles of sulfur explode, the daylight grieves,
        the Universe shudders and with trembling voice
        whispers a mournful goodbye.
OH WORLD, I will continue this life long scribble
        until I get it right, I will continue to explore
        these burning embers inside the heart
        until I am able to understand
        because eventually this bacchanal of folly
        will dissolve into liquid light.
The expansion of the mind must go beyond
        the simplicity of a lustful embrace,
        must traverse past the avenue of fire and ice,
        must evolve beyond these Babylonian gates
        that hold us prisoner with false visions
        of opulence and divisive promises
        of biological immortality.
OH WORLD, OH WORLD . . . we whore ourselves
        at a brothel where every penis and vagina
        is covered over with political moss,
        we remain horizontal, we fail to rise up
        and embrace those who light candles
        inside the long, but rapidly moving tunnel
        that leads to death.
We cower in fear, cling to the skeletal illusion
        of the body, we gnash our teeth and weep
        terrified at the existential portal
        that we cannot ignore.
It will and must be opened by every one of us
        and we must pass through a cloud of unknowing
        if we are to reach our ultimate destination.
OH WORLD, I am swept up in a beautiful sadness
        that emanates from sensitive strains of music,
        I am caressed by the suffering hand of existence,
        I eat my daily bread, I sip at the wine goblet
        of my soul, always seeking a release
        from the turgid trickery of the mind.
I stare out past the rain soaked window of my eyes
        and witness the indifferent slaughter of the spirit,
        it staggers, leper footed across the broken
        Highway . . . and I ask myself,
        why can’t we all just walk away from this
        collective karmic mess we have created,
        this continual heartbeat of sorrow
        that is seemingly never alleviated?
Birth death, death birth . . . the wretched wheel
        that whirls around and around, spinning us
        into a foreign garden where the serpent
        is wrapped about the ankles of the deaf,
        dumb and blind leaders of the planet.
SO WORLD, OH WORLD . . . as I crash into a wall
        of disturbing inner turbulence, I cry out
        to god knows who, I plead for some relief
        from this dark and bitter landscape
        I find myself wandering through.
Oh yes, WORLD, I sing these old age apocalyptic blues,
        they weep from the pores of my skin,
        they stain the clothing of my mind,
        they push me onward in search of something
        that rings true.
They are in the tender whisper of my sleeping children,
        they are in my wife’s breast as it nurtures me
        during moments of unbearable disharmony,
        they are a moaning shout into the darkness,
        they are a non blasphemous hymn that prays
        for an exodus of cleansing,
        they are sitting in the lonely blue room
        of my mind
                                where I can decipher
                      a faint truthful voice that tells me

                            THAT IT DOESN’T

                                    HAVE

                     
                                    TO BE



                                    THIS WAY..