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A mighty move, a thousand lives, all packed up and strapped down,
An’ travelin’ through the dead of night, a fleet that shakes the ground.
A cast aside community, lured to a dotted line,
Inspired by immunity, but shackled to a shine.

The refugees - trinkets in tow - are told to turn around,
They kneel and plead, nowhere to go, some fat man owns their ground.
Disease an’ death with drought or mud, an’ shelters made of sand,
Look to the west - and so they should – holdin’ out their empty hands.

An endless plight, an exodus, pays homage to its graves,
Defend an’ fight an’ test their fists - for promises of rain.
A tired child in endless sleep, his stomach storing air,
Is almost wild, is almost free - was almost never there.

A town, a land, a continent - a half a world the same,
Beyond run-down an’ decadent. Beyond the care of blame.
A person, people, faith an’ race – best part of this mankind,
We herd them, keep them out of place - and far from in our minds

Their sin was birth, so Hell is earthed an’ they can call it home,
Unavoidable collateral. Fighting to lick a bone.
Politics. Apocalypse - It’s all the same to them,
With all their kids as thick as twigs, an’ vines that look like men.

Turn off T.V’s. Turn bliss angry - they’ve put you off your meal,
So blank them out - why stand an’ shout? One mind can’t change their deal.
How wrong you are, to think as far. Each penny goes somewhere,
All care’ll count, all aid amounts – high time we learned to share.
I swear I dwelt alone
Amongst a million other faces
In a city full of every opportunity
I cannot attain

I suppose you’ve found a native-born foreigner
And you’ve stopped by long enough
to hear
A voice too quiet speak…

I’m not anything phenomenal,
Black jacket-clad with a caged-up heart
I suppose you’ve found a kindred soul,
Just a stranger in a familiar land.

Tell me again why you are here?
I’ve heard every other reason,
They all end the same…
Fifteen years I’ve lived cold
and alone
With patches of warmth that
Only faded away.

Would you mind staying here,
my dear only friend?
I have empty ears that hunger for
words.
I have empty hands that clutch for
warmth.
An empty heart that could use your
touch, but
A mouth so full, they stitched it shut,
a tongue overflowing with words.
A brain that defied them, so they
Called it dumb, but
Could you please stay
and listen?
 May 2014 Honey Crown
Dear
THIS IS A CALL TO ARMS TO ENFOLD ANYONE WE  CAN REACH
We are malnourished of blankets and binkies
Mother’s breast and meaning
We are earthquake spirit lands rumbling for peace
We are a bright light that plays on squinted eyelids so that you may see
We are the kaleidoscope of what is and what could be
We are
KINGS AND QUEENS
Not worker bees.
We are dry mouths and cracked lips thirsty
Drinking crying eyes and kissing empty hands
THIS IS WHAT I FEEL FROM THE TIED DESOLATION OF A PROMISED LAND
We are seraphim
Selling ourselves on suburban streets
We are cherubs
Peddling angel dust to children’s gums
Slipping LSD under their tongues
HOW FAR WE HAVE STRAYED FROM OUR RIGHTOUS PATH!
We are a fall from grace that knocks the air from chests
So we may realize what it is to BREATH!
IN! OUT!
We are One from within
With or without sorrows or the tedium of tomorrow
We are our crystal innocence and reptilian rigidness
We are a mirror
Reflective of all that surrounds us
We are the lush trees and the desolate land bound by fences and man’s prosperity
We are the lake
Warping realities reflection with ripples and rhombuses that wrinkle our surface with every stone skipped
Galaxies teeming underneath

TAKE OFF!!!!
Become what we didn’t know
Find the eternal reassurance that no matter what will be, is, or was, WE WILL BE!

https://soundcloud.com/spiritbarehear/call-to-arms
 May 2014 Honey Crown
Jo Peta
Sometimes I try to find myself
Beneath the sheath of broken glass
Time’s defied, hours pass.
I’ve somehow lost my mind.

I sought through thoughts uneven,
to leave with empty hands.
The lands I’ve traveled and roads I’ve crossed,
and still no better man.

As if it didn’t matter, the efforts one endures
Her demure is just a veil,
she wears to seek the truth.
Through constant clash, she rushes past
Leaves the looking glass behind.
A quake of constant despondency
Rattles through her mind
She turns back once more before,
she’s washed upon the shore.

A valley of perplexity holds dreams,
yet to come true.
The
quiet
darkness
tempts her.
And suddenly she’s you.

She’s spent from all the racket.
As the lawlessness of latter days
Brings death to her malpractice.
Could this be, shall she know?
True freedom when it nears?
Or will she fear it and back away
Like patterns of previous years.
And suddenly a voice spoke softly,
“The choice is yours my dear”
Pray.
Fold your hands or raise them empty.
True worship is in the sand.
It's knowing your coasts.
Knowing where you stop and where the Mystery begins.
Setting invisible standards on scales
you will never step foot on yourself
and being completely ok with that.
Empty hands are easy to hold on with,
so he squeezes with all his might.
Tighter with each missed meal,
tighter still with each cold night.
He holds on to the stories of Sundays,
of Lion's dens and wooden boats.
So that in the darkness of poverty's grave,
He prays.
Staying true to that thing with feathers in his soul,
he finds laughter amid storms
and wrestles smiles through the pain.
He grows.
From some invisible seed planted some time ago.
Grandmama's kitchen was a regular glass-walled greenhouse
And there wasn't anybody around
that could look themselves in the mirror
should one day they take to throwing stones.
Pray,
Mama told him.
So he closed his eyes and spoke.
Truth to remove the cold,
bread of spirit to fill his hunger.
But when he opened his eyes he felt pain in his side,
so he prayed again.
Knees on the ground,
he expected the earth to sprout cheerio trees,
the clouds to rain blankets,
and Grandmama to come around the next corner.
Such was the mustard seed.
Often times he slept after prayer.
Not always of peace.
Sometimes he was afraid his eyes
would see the same world when he opened them.
So he held them shut and saw Grandmama in dreams.
Pray,
Mama told him,
for patience and peace.
His empty hands still raised,
Still empty,
he gazed into the rafters of the one place he felt safe.
Singing songs of Sundays
and praying like Friday nights.
He felt light wrap around him,
rainbows he thought,
because he liked the colors,
and he learned while he was hungry
to pray.
The 3rd of 3 sketches of youth in poverty I wrote entitled 'Dance.Sing.Pray'
O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
O Priestess in the vaults of Death,
O sweet and bitter in a breath,
What whispers from thy lying lip?

"The stars," she whispers, "blindly run;
A web is wov'n across the sky;
From out waste places comes a cry,
And murmurs from the dying sun:

"And all the phantom, Nature, stands--
With all the music in her tone,
A hollow echo of my own,--
A hollow form with empty hands."

And shall I take a thing so blind,
Embrace her as my natural good;
Or crush her, like a vice of blood,
Upon the threshold of the mind?
 May 2014 Honey Crown
dan d
woe unto the dreamers!
for they invoke hope among the hopeless
and
woe unto the seers!
who find light in the darkness
and
woe unto the women!
for bearing the weight of the future
when they deem themselves strongest
and
woe unto the slaves!
for reaching out to their masters with empty hands bloodied

for safety is clipped wings
and freedom is hushed voices,
knowledge is confusion
and vision is to discern from identical choices,
while wealth is the burden so generously borne by so few

in the republic.
 May 2014 Honey Crown
Jack Piatt
Old Neil crossed the ocean for it
Van Gogh died longing for it
Wars have been started because of it
Poe died poor and broken without it
Morrison had it but couldn’t grasp it
Shakespeare died with its taste in his mouth
His quill dripping with its potent potion
Its evasiveness lingers in my father’s eyes
I am pale and hollow without it
I’ve danced with it ...
Stared into convincing eyes
Yet I stand with empty hands
An empty heart
Many have traveled far and wide
And just as many will grow old
Searching
For a
"Heart of gold"
Jesus
I don't even know what to say to You
I'm standing here
With empty hands
And broken eyes
Accusing You
Of teasing me
Of broken promises
Scorpions instead of bread
My soul feels brutalized
Bereft
In the wake of such violence
I'm reaching out
And grasping empty air
My hands are empty
As though the promise of eternity
Has passed through my fingers
I tried to hold the light
As though I could keep it in my hands
Only to find
It just fades away
I'm searching for You here
In these empty places
Only to find
I'm becoming more lost
And more is being taken away
I have stood here before
With empty hands
And broken eyes
Searching for a Savior
Who never seems to come
I gave my whole life to You, Lord
Built my world around Your promise
Counting on a Sun
That never seems to rise
My God, I feel so bitter
Empty and alone
Ripped apart
Abandoned
How can You possibly ask me to trust
When You only seem to hurt me?
I don't want to believe anymore
I just hide here in my room
Blocking out sounds
Of lives still in the sun
No one is coming
Not for me
Not for me
Don't You see me crying?
With these empty hands
And broken eyes
I just cry
I'm not strong enough
To be what You want, Lord
I'm just not enough
Is that why You left me alone?
Faith isn't always easy. This was written from a time I felt so betrayed... but at least it was a prayer. In the end, I never did fully give up on the Lord who never did give up on me.
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