#strongholds
#An Exegesis on the Humiliation of the Word
The world is ruled by darkness.
What appears as harmless is theater,
what pretends neutral is already bent.
The macrocosm corrodes;
and in the microcosm, its reflection gleams..
even in places meant to be sanctuaries of truth.
A poetry site,
born as refuge for broken voices,
becomes another stage of control.
Here too the phrase resounds:
neutralize the threat.
But neutralization is not annihilation.
It is paralysis.
It is psy-ops.
It is the removal of anxiety..
not a side-effect, but the aim itself.
Darkness builds its stage for this alone:
that the "angel of light"
may drown his own reckoning
beneath a world of deception-built self comfort,
so he need never feel
the truth he already knows.
Comfort is his curtain,
numbness his crown..
*the removal of his own anxiety;
his game.*
This is why the world is his theater--
*Darkness does not destroy at first..
it sedates, comforts, smothers.*
Hence..
The whole world is his fully gaslit stronghold,
..for now.
Fade back into the moment--
The young poet arrives,
bringing her unspoken pain,
her hope for words to heal.
Instead, her very wounds are seized as footholds.
Hearts. Reposts. Endless affirmation.
Not to strengthen her voice,
but to redirect it.
She is seduced into belonging,
and her trauma becomes currency.
Unresolved, her ache entwined with lust--
a sacrifice prepared for false altars.
The angel of light has done his work:
offering inclusion without transformation,
belonging without responsibility,
“light” without source.
The poet is neutralized.
Her searching silenced,
her voice absorbed into fog.
Those who carry this fog
cling to cowardice.
Unable to face the judgment within,
they align themselves to the herd;
envy-filled, they only know to mock.
Yet they replicate themselves,
so their refusal of Light
is never revealed--
*Perfectly exemplifying their "Great Example"
the most envy-based mocker of all.*
The microcosm mirrors the macrocosm.
What nations suffer,
individuals now endure--
Comfort without clarity.
Belonging without truth.
Safety without healing.
Yet the living Word endures.
Every attempt to humiliate it
only makes its fire burn clearer.
Carriers of darkness can swarm,
****** and smother..
but they cannot create.
The true word cannot be erased.
Unfiltered, unedited,
spoken from a reconciled temple,
it pierces fog.
It reveals.
It heals.
And so we speak..
not for ourselves alone,
but for those who come searching,
hoping that poetry
might still be a place
where pain can meet truth,
where silence breaks,
where Light is not withheld
but revealed.
#
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 10:59 PM UTC
The annual avian
stormtroopers and
Luftwaffe have attacked
allied fortresses
of our smaller
fine
feathered friends --
Chickadees
Finches
&
Wrens --
and have taken
many of their strongholds
this spring here in the
Far North pillaging
needed and perhaps
unneeded sustenance
from our allies
storehouses leaving
nothing in their wake
but an avian version
of empty nest syndrome.
These black-clad
Heckle & Jeckle
Grackle Gestapo
with their click click
machine gun
sputtering sounds
think we don't notice their
clever tricks as they
nonchalantly hop
downward from branch
to branch and shuffle
side-ways on our fence
whistling as they move
one way but their
manipulating gaze at
food supplies plans
another.
But our smaller brave
fine feathered friends
hold their ground to
fight the good fight of
faith propagating
their species as the
human species also
struggles with and
against the odds of
blind and partially
blind instinct.
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 9:03 AM UTC
Warfighter, late in years, finally vanquished.
Arm drop, sword clang, grateful to be finished.
Breached fortress,
Gate ajar, the opaque clears.
He raises his hands up to the sky,
Cries,
Turned heart.
‘Why only now did you intervene?’
He implores.
‘Can’t you see that it was me you were fighting all along?’
Says The River unseen.
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 5:18 AM UTC
As I went on in life
I started building havens
First out of sticks
But as time went by those sticks turned to stones
Walls of doubt and fear began to appear and close in around me
The stones turned to iron bars
And the rising walls trapped me in
Inside my head
Inside my own prison
The more I fought the stronger the barricade became
Then you came to me
My knight in shining armor
My king and my Friend
The love you had for me burned down the doubt and tore away the fear
Until I was a child holding up my arms to my Father for his strong embrace
You carried me home and I was never again alone with my fear
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC