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RJ Days Jan 2017
In summer gath’ring they invoked the sky
Just throw of stones from where I sit, so bold
On pain of death, they risked both names and gold,
By pen for chance of freedom staked their lives;
Once bought with blood they’d plant some autumns nigh
A tree whose branches ever since could hold
Against the force of storms, growing so old
Though none can say now if its roots have died;
As children huddled ‘neath its shade cry out
Some grasp an ax, ready to strike, upend
Afraid these leaves once-green no longer breathe
While up on eager feet they march and shout
Unsure what perils may on them descend
Many yet hope to climb and still believe
RJ Days Jan 2017
For now we find ourselves in fear beset
As if these trials arrive from new angles
To form, congeal and harden shelled regrets
One shard of hope which just cuts and mangles
Though torn we pray the blind may discover
How truly gruesome lies were dangled
Which spun their hate into this awful blunder
Bidding sisters’, brothers’ hands to strangle
Not reaching down to lift, but rip asunder
A people’s love for neighbors, laying blame
On all who won’t ennoble he who plunders
Mocking facts, weighing truth and lies the same;
We know not where to look to make us whole
Bodies resisting, barely cling to souls.
RJ Days Jan 2017
Dear
rain washes
steel, cobblestone remnants;
teardrops evaporated now tumble
home.
RJ Days Jan 2017
Leave
the past;
your green lights
on far docks fade
blue.
For Gatsby
RJ Days Dec 2016
Awoke to masked and yellow light of morning
Six days of joy preceded shades of holly
You crept away as my heart was warming
And left with me this wayward taste of folly
Which tongue and teeth did press on those wet lips
Who had ne'er known nor spoke but songs in prose
Now sang of curves that in soft light eclipsed
When feeding mouth, mine eyes and soul arose
I still can see the memory of your face
Those shining giant eyes and softest skin
Transport me to the realm of your embrace
Where then we lived as if life just begins
But if somehow love took me whilst I slept
These days I wait and wonder if I dreamt
RJ Days Dec 2016
Too bad we can't have both; but no,
it's one or the other. That's the trouble
with gods and Bosons: Admit one spirit
and you're no more than a Planck length
from the soul; measure position
and your divine momentum is gone,
deader than deadest poisoned cat.

If God (The God) were God He'd surely
be laughing as Jess & I tried to explain
quantum entanglement to each other,
several superpositions removed
from grasping how causality is preserved
and He'd muse at our suffering
surely in the face of First World fascism
and conspiratorial delight of ignorance;

Jesus would forgive us the hubris
of our collective sartorial malaise:
He'd writhe there painfully but patiently
on the cross w/ bile & gall while we
scrawled out partial differential equations
on the backs of cocktail napkins
and pretended that Lye groups—
sublime Algebra—hooked up
with the Standard Model in their own
perverted and slutty way—yes! Christ
would redeem the heretical pronouncements
on this dark matter,
spare us Pauline judgments—in abhorrent
reality of Time & Space (that's how
He rolls, I guess);

Zeus would just hurl thunderbolts, jealous
as ever of the atom smashers and
their Olympian acolytes' true lightning;

And what about Buddha? He's so full
of himself and compassion, bloated
by enlightenment he may not notice how
much rice we'd had on the way to these
Poison Arrow questions. So what's another
******* rebirth if it's needed? Too late
now for transcendence or transforming
Yoda-like into the Force;

Vishnu in Absolute Now says
Nothing's left but a bunch of fractured
protons, lovely alpha particles and
their asymmetric cousins, ever inward
but ever outward as cosmos go. One day
maybe we'll stop colliding and listen
to the whispers of Revelation—
that is, if we have the science, the ears
and the time.

We never asked of Einstein, sadly,
his divinity not being well established,
and his opinion souring
with the passing of the nonlinear,
the non-local and the grandiose—
Albert may still chime in though,
may be watching from that spooky
neighborhood universe
we seek but eternally dismiss.

We exist with the reality we have, not
the one we want. Until then it's an either/or
we must accept, because we are serious folk
who know gods and Bosons coexist only
among the superstitious and ill-informed.
You can't mince words when there are
so many atoms to split.
RJ Days Dec 2016
***** fortresses and palaces
write tightest code
reach the pinnacle of artistry
painting raindrops
composing sublime orchestrations
from furrows where germinate
the double-helical zenith
of human engineering outside
nanotubes, transistors or
our private clouds—
all the emergent complexity
we've harvested in semantic grace
—to seem like life is comfortable
and tastes good and may actually
be worth something in the end;
yet, bloodied or coddled, chessmen
march on, moving into position
guided by the arbitrariness of their
quest, immune to the nuance
of getting caught in a summer rain,
hugs from your grandmother,
some memory of reciting Bible verses
in Sunday school, singing a hymn into
the depth of a passionate smooch
or the fancy of imagination's depression,
but the arrow of time points on!
And eclectic rumination notwithstanding,
etropy always wins.
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