12-31-13

Purpose Served
9-17-13

Thorns in the flesh
Are a token of great knowledge
In that Solomon doth reign after me
In the stead of the Scholar
That seeks out more
With thorns in one's side
To serve as the evidence of things not seen
To serve God's purpose in all refinement
Cast into the furnace again
Closer to such perfection
Yet to shine forth
With the light I choose to capture
In eyes at rest
Where the burden and its blessing
Brings out in me that is best...




Reset Button
9-17-13

Still in twenty-thirteen
I say what I mean and fill the canteen
Yet crass, unrefined, unfledged callow and green
Bringing back what was me
Eight months in the past
That exists only In what I can grasp
Coming in the form of experience
In who I am today
In the process of practice
Of reciting Scripture
On my neighbor's voicemail
To serve as a pastime
I have fallen away from
Soon to press another reset button
On that which I'd love to get back to...




Permission
9-17-13

Permitting the paradox
Of wanting affliction to vanish
And allowing such to be just what it is
Writing the lyrics of a brand new tune
Both euphonious and cacophonous under heaven
Observing the beauty
That can only be in such contrast
To what is ugly
Where the darkness dissipates
By the available light...




New Tracks
9-17-13

Needing the sun to photosynthesise
External layers of this grace
To receive more than what one diserves
According to outward appearance
By the illusion of what one can grasp
In new tracks of light
Written by those with something on their hearts to yet expound
Taking not for granted religious freedom in all of this
With gnashing teeth and such a desire
To find yet more
Of what I could not see...






Gift
9-17-13

Only because there is evil
Can one know of the good
And only by one's quartz stone
Can one caress the textures of a table of cedar wood
Where the sign so reads
That my gift will write the next chapter
Coming in the form of an inward prophet
Where we can know of beauty only because of ugliness
Where before and after go together
To this throne of grace...




Oft Refreshed
9-17-13

Soon to fulfill my cigarette karma
Not mine but of those whom had planted
Oft refreshed
With crosses slanted
To serve the purpose
In stand again upright
Where I cry O, Lord be with my mind
The rest of today
Where the husbandman
Must first be a partaker of his own fruits
To know just how it tastes... 


these poems were scribbled at the Queen Street library in the city of York where I was quite vulnerable to surroundings...