I see a casket coming down the steps,
carried by two men.
A small and lonely church.
Then I realized who lay inside.
I always knew the day would come,
but I expected a larger gathering,
and a respectable line of cars,
not just a hearse, a driver and the extra man.
All my assets are listed in my Will.
Gone now to my heirs.
My wealth is nothing to me now
There’s a casket, these clothes and a small headstone.
But who is this standing by my grave?
The man I once saved from hunger
at no great cost to me;
certainly nothing I thought much of.
Now this friend’s my only treasure,
my true wealth discovered so late.
I’m a fool poorly graved,
my savior this poor man I saved.
John Hayes
Jun 24, 2021
Jun 24, 2021 at 10:07 AM UTC
Out of nowhere it came
in the night.
A thought unlike my own.
Like a ghost I would shun.
A frightful thought to be sure.
How could my mind conjure it?
Is there a demon in me
that would think such a thng?
Or am I a stranger to myself,
a cauldron of the vilest kind?
Oh rid me of
my unconscious mind!
John Hayes
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 12:27 PM UTC
When I looked out one morning
The world had changed.
My neighbor and I were at war.
The same was so for my brother.
My country was going mad.
The politicians were at war
and couldn’t agree on anything
that mattered,
The center was giving away.
Even the earth was in its death throes
but our own dying was more pressing.
I remembered our church days,
how we prayed for one another,
but the pews have thinned out.
Nietzsche was still raging from his grave:
“God is Dead”.
I yelled to God: “No!’
But I was still baffled
in the dead silence.
And I looked out on a world
my own soul could not
recognize.
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 9:46 AM UTC
You gave me a universe,
but I count myself poor.
You gave me the human race;
but I’m lonely.
You gave me Shakespeare;
but I’m jealous of his talent;
You gave me all you have;
but I feel deprived.
You gave me all the energies swerling in the heavens;
but I’m tired.
You gave me life;
but I’m preoccupied with death.
You hung on a cross for me;
but all my mistakes were well-intentioned.
Why have you done so much for me
when you didn’t have to?
In my heart I know
that your love surpasses everything.
If I dive into to the depths of myself
You are there, waiting for me.
I can’t understand your love.
It is so forgiving, so absolute.
There’s nothing like it in the world
I’m used to.
Your love violates everything I know.
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 10:31 AM UTC
I can’t dance.
But you can dance for me!
I can’t compose a symphony.
But Beethoven composed many for us!
A sage discovered the wheel
and Shakespeare wrote plays
for us.
I’ll do everything I can for you
with my gifts,
and all things you do,
please do them for me.
Gifts seem random,
uneven and unfair.
But it only seems
that way,
since they are lessons
in sharing.
The best gift received of all
is the giving.
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 10:27 AM UTC
The telephone rings.
It’s the doctor’s office.
The nurse’s voice is soft
and sympathetic.
“Good morning,
we received the biopsy results.”
“I’m sorry, but the news
Isn’t good.”
“They’re positive for
invasive cancer.”
Silence….
“We have the name of a surgeon.”
“You should call this morning
and make an appointment.”
“We’re so sorry.”
Silence..,
“What’s that number again?”
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 10:33 AM UTC
To love the law is to love the just balance
where no one is more right for being strong,
rich or powerful.
It is knowing that the law
is grounded in human nature,
and that being right
is more important than being correct.
It is to face impossible odds
when all involved have agreed
that what is asked can’t be done.
It is striving to shift the tilt of the earth
from the status quo toward the steady sun of justice.
It is to take on the world and its powers
for the simple truth that will prevail
in the highest court of reason.
It is knowing that his client
is the essential man,
the child of the universe
whose misdeeds are forgivable mistakes.
It is knowing that his real power
is his word, and that his real wealth
is his reputation.
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 11:57 AM UTC
I wrestle with her song
like a reservoir,
since it mocks the veritable sea.
Its mysteries, unconceived,
she’s robbed of their virginity.
I flew to a galaxy
near the beginning,
and she also found me there
beneath the surface, under the deep air.
Waiting before an impenetrable secret
I couldn’t escape her song,
her Siren song.
Her sweet words
enveloped and bound,
like chords wrapped around me
to tame and name.
An infinite darkness of mind vanished
wordless into the unknowing
womb of creation.
And I, banished to an inner wasteland,
heard a voice of genius singing
a base rhythm to her song.
It was plain and blue.
The words were formless but
rose from the bottom of the world.
I am enchanted by an old song
and an older place,
seeming enemies.
Whether by seduction or
will for words
I will be undone.
I must have both
or be without my song.
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 11:22 AM UTC
I wait for your words
as I wait for the dogwoods
in the spring,
and their buds to flower
chalky in the wild woods.
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 11:03 AM UTC
How charming he is
between rounds,
when civility doesn’t stop
the fight.
His charm keeps us engaged.
Once the fight is resumed
he thrusts wildly,
unable to see an open spot.
Why waste my fear?
His blindness is my friend.
By moving in
he only sees himself.
And it’s himself he beats.
I am only a witness,
to his self-defeat.
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 10:56 AM UTC