#faithlessness
i.
I walk through the streets
of old Spandau
under a sky of slate and zinc
that lets loose its sleet
and drops of pale ink,
filled with burdened clouds
weary from hurrying onward
out of the iron east.
ii.
A church tower stands sentinel
watching over the people fleeing past
on cobbled streets paved with fate.
iii.
Once, to doubt was to believe
as Thomas, bereaved,
called out in awe
My Lord and my God.
Today there’s just doubts,
faith is fleeting as clouds.
iv.
The tower waits,
outwardly strong,
yet forlorn and alone,
abandoned by the faithful
as the sacred slips away.
It watches and waits
in hollow hope of a time
when its hallowed purpose
might yet be whole again.
Nov 7, 2024
Nov 7, 2024 at 5:12 PM UTC
A-walking through stone Old Town streets
of Edinburgh lashed by wind and sleet,
I saw Tron Kirk tower ***** the sky —
she loosed great raindrops on passersby:
A handsome former city church,
by fickle faithful left in the lurch,
still called down tears of Scottish rain
and wept, but dreams she’ll rise again
Oct 10, 2024
Oct 10, 2024 at 4:49 PM UTC
you look just like her
your body, your face, your hair.
you look most like her
when you’re defiant,
an attitude that rivals her.
you’re stubborn and you’re wrong
but father forgot to mention
that i look just like her.
my body, my face, my hair.
i look most like her
when i’m yelling my face red,
an anger that rivals hers.
i’m tenacious and confident,
i have faith in myself.
yes, father forgot to mention
that i wear my mother well.
Feb 17, 2022
Feb 17, 2022 at 5:55 PM UTC
To the prayers who mourn
and to the mourners who pray
To the seekers of faith
as to believe, warmth bring it may
To the souls of whom sworn,
an anguish of grief with ceaseless wraith
Here forth in this unholy grave
Lies the spirit of your salvation
To the lovers who dreamed
and to the dreamers who loved
To the cosmic pairing
as toys the void the fair beloved
To the sole swan, by time, seamed,
an ache of lost mesmeric sharing
Here forth in this sterile grave
Lies the body of your gestation
To the good memories
And to memories of good
To the aether of life
as a ghost encased in soft wood
To the shared old stories
an amusement of cuddles and strife
Here forth in this forgotten grave
Lies the mind of your foundation
Even when darkness raises a wall
(This snake of hope with fangs of fear)
Light shall always scorch with white
(This dove that dazzles with hearts resilience)
Sorry that the fire blazed not the dark,
But charred Faith, Love, those Memories...
And all is lost in ashes of sorrow,
And all is drowned in my silent tears
They won't come back, I won't climb up
Death, this closed door, it's complicated
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 8:35 AM UTC
Wonders never happened.
Laughs have diminished.
The sun is still shining,
But night has crept in.
Love has eluded,
Hope for it dwindled.
The arms that were open
Never closed in an embrace.
Faith and I,
Went our separate ways.
The life that was to be -
Have I lost it forever?
In a hurricane of sounds,
Amidst people living and loving,
With broken words in my throat,
All for me is silence.
Sep 3, 2020
Sep 3, 2020 at 1:21 PM UTC
like the blind content just not to fall
the faithless constantly confessing sins
paying lip service to morality
ever ready to shoot the enemy, or anyone
desirous of faith's mountain moving prowess
never really believing literally
faithlessness betrayed by gun always on hand
shooting into hurricanes when prayers failed
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 5:52 AM UTC
My love can only be true,
he said, as he parted my lips with tenderness.
The laurels, they can lie too.
The sunlight rained down from skies awash with dew,
As my world rejoiced, sure nothing was amiss,
For the words from his lips could only ring true.
My darling, my sweetheart, I want to marry you,
He whispered, flooding my heart with profound happiness.
The laurels, they can lie too.
The messenger dove came too late, loaded with sadness and rue,
The festivities had commenced, the lovely couple a-bliss.
For the words from his lips could only ring true.
My dress snow-white, his eyes ocean-blue,
My broken heart rose-red, riven apart with sweetness.
The laurels, they can lie too.
As Hera’s lover had been untrue, so had you,
I said, poisoning his mouth with one swift kiss.
For the words from his lips could only ring true,
The laurels, they can lie too.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Two frowns wait for the other to speak:
One long and melancholy,
The other expectant, so fraught and weak.
The boy looks to his dog as though to his lover:
“I wish I could give you everything you wanted;
Life only interferes.”
His mate saunters on, lays low
So he fears, in resignation,
“What is it that keeps your devotion so clear?”
She, silent, in anticipation
“I do not know,” he responded. “But it is not here.”
So the blank canvas continued to be:
His mate continued sniffling unknowingly.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC