Poem For Treasa (Hallelujah)



It is the movement of the breath

that makes the words sing.

It is a breezy wind moving
waves of vowels

flowing, skittering,  crashing
against rocky craggy walls

of consonants.

It is the breath

moving upward through the body
tingling and ringing through the throat strings

guided, blocked and shaped
by tongue and teeth and lips.

It is a sound vibrating, resounding, echoing
in the cavern of the mouth,

sometimes gurgling and roaring
up through the throat,

sometimes
humming in the nose.

It is the breath
that makes the words sing,

or is it the other way around?

perhaps it is the possibility
of myth and wonder

within our lonely human souls,

that brings the breath together
within the harmony of song,

and we sing and sing,
because we can,

my God we sing,  
and laugh and cry
and try to dance

and sound the message out.

The words touch us
cascading through our minds,

and we in turn reach out again,
reaching, always reaching, and yes,
by the Grace of God,  we're always reaching

to touch the common soul.

trying to bring the world together,
knowing, because we've heard it sung,

we need not be alone.

Hallelujah.

Runnin', really runnin'


I sit here,
lookin' at my loose skinned animals

just lyin' there.

And I think, (as is my way),

"How lucky they are

just lyin' there

with nothing to do."

Oh yes.

Well I know for certain

the cats

are always doin' just what
they wanna do.

They intersect with me
at the food bowl,
at their, (you know), leisure.

The dog,
on the other hand,
(She's a Pharoh Hound),

that's right,

She's curled up in
the big green arm chair.

And she's dreamin'

about runnin' across
Abysinian deserts

chasin'

long legged antelopes
in the hot shifty sands.

And she's runnin',

And she's runnin',

really runnin',

and

I wake her up,

and

she's  back here
curled up

in the big green arm chair.

And then I get
the disconcerting thought,

"When was the last time

I was runnin',

runnin',

really runnin' ?"

Maybe

I've been curled up here
in the big green arm chair,

You know,

Domesticated,

Dreamin'.

And my skin

sure as hell ain't loose.

FOR CHRIST'S SAKE


Look there, closely
at the fleshy part of your palms.
Look there where the lines converge and join.
This is where the spikes
are driven through,
nailing you
to the hot splintered wood.

Look there
where your legs are crossed
at the ankles,
as the third spike
crushes through
and holds you.

Slowly
The blood drips
your soul away
into the emptiness,
as you hang
suspended,

in the gulf between

the possibility,
and the reality.

Come down.

Come down.

We need you now.

You hang there because you were the possibility.

We hang here here because we cling to the reality.

For Christ's sake,
forgive us,
for we know not what we do.

Forgive us,
for we know not what we do.

We know not what we do.

I am Viking

A Thousand Years Ago,
three Gods ran rampant,
pulsing,
through my veins.

Odin, Thor, and Loki
were the blood that hammered through my heart.

Throughout the World
I ***** and pillaged,
killed, and took
all that could be mine.

I was not afraid to die,
and more,
I was not afraid to live.

I am Viking.
A thousand years ago.

Everywhere in the known world
I roamed, and beyond,
and everywhere I conquered.

Everywhere I stayed,
and stood,
with my blue eyes shining,
and became
all that was around me.

I am Viking
A thousand years ago.

And now I am here.
I am peaceful, gentle,
and I am shining.
I learned my lessons well
in a thousand years or so.

But I must warn you.
Be careful,
Do not abuse me.

Deep within my heart and soul,
Odin, Thor, and Loki
still lie sleeping.

and I am Viking
from a thousand years ago.

I am Viking.
A thousand years ago.