Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Joel Frye Aug 2017
The deepest bruises
stay numb for the longest time;
self-preservation.
Romeo: Courage, man, the hurt cannot be deep.
Mercutio: No, 'tis not so deep as a well,
nor so wide as a church door,
but 'tis enough, 'twill serve.
"Romeo and Juliet", act 3, scene 1.
  May 2016 Joel Frye
Rebecca Karlsson
She's got a hinge loose.
Well, I'll tell you,
it's more than that.  
The whole door is falling off,
And will certainly take a few other things with it.
The sum failure of her small unseen parts,
Coming loose one by one.  

And there never seems to be a proper screwdriver handy when she needs one.
Joel Frye Jan 2016
You ever wonder
why (with so many poems)
why we keep writing?
Joel Frye Dec 2015
Some people change their
colors and fall away; a
few are evergreen.
  Dec 2015 Joel Frye
vircapio gale
on the way
to return sociology
to the library
i couldn't read the parking signs
so ended blocks away
at a salvation army

the kind with no books for sale
but an elevator shaft
running up, down
behind a drum-set altar
and a stage i didn't buy.

half-expecting 'the war room' ads
posted here as well
i let a stranger lead me to my muse
saying none would mind

Chuck asked me if i 'needed to pray this morning'
before unlocking -
i said, 'every day'  but thought
  not in his way
- i'm just begging him to play.

i read a psalm and kneel to test hypocrisy.
lotus palms connote release from suffering
wellness for all beings

and then  
i am here now
at the keyboard again
playing music i will never forget
even when my chainsaw body stiffens  creaks
the keys a saving home still  though shy
they hammer heart strings
broken, born -again again again.

praeludium, goldberg, well-tempered
minuets conjure Bach
in his stone church
and i cry for lost souls
my own lostness found
though convinced there is no static single 'self'
no 'soul'-rewarded other-life to justify our own
no 'god'- or science-demolished mystery
no metaphysic causa sui to separate
contempus mundi from the mundi...
no tidy verbal 'beyond beyond'
but that of Thales  Sappho  Gautama  
Laotse  Yeshua
Nagarjuna  Shankara
Duns Scotus  Hume  
Blake  Whitman  Darwin
Nietzsche  Du Bois
Tolkien  Stein  Merleau-Ponty  Sagan  Jong

but i will say we've sung the music of the spheres
in host-guest handshakes
stranger  xenophilic tunes
my earthling family hums my heart anew
as i begin  again
to sing my being into fingertips

skyward breath to lid-closed harmonies of hell redeemed
in Peter's vacuuming
request for 'Dixieland'
and Stacy's parting thanks
for 'we three kings'
Ruth's morning-making compliments and invitation back
my wish to share with them the love i feel
- from them, Gaskell's book
from deep within where no words win
authentic ownmost ocean depth of
less contingent love
historically embracing love
of errancy and freedom in our different loves
an atheist in love with vacuums
saucha and the music of human kindness
receiving gifts in giving thanks








.
10.26.15
saucha is a sanskrit, yogic term for purity/cleanliness

'contemptus mundi' is a medieval concept meaning 'contempt for the world' integral to religious escapism and ecological dominionism

chapel-soup-kitchen-center

he said i had 40 minutes
before the cleaning begins

my mother used to use the vacuum to put me to sleep

the puritanical element, cultural currency/status symbol of driving a recycled prius (totaled and rebuilt); ecology as the new global "religion" the cons of which are hard for me to digest, let alone admit, being an environmentalist, and of an ecological mindset

the first ad i saw for "the war room" was on another church's double-door
  Nov 2015 Joel Frye
betterdays
not got poetry within me...

have searched and sought,
found only dry bones
and hollow whispers

mirages to a soul that sighs.
mirages to a soul that cries...

bones that clack and clatter,
whispered words that natter
and scatter and dissipate
....at an alarming rate

my ear aches, my heart aches
and those bones, do break...
and shatter

mirages drift, mirages drift...

as i sift and seive a tired mind,

yet no poetry do i find....
Joel Frye Nov 2015
people, stop killing
each other for god's sake; then
we will live in peace
Next page