Gideon with torches and trumpets routed nations
mightier and more numerous than his 300
Putin with the vanity of Trump and his believers
is now king of mighty USA without need for war

Choice

neither material nor relevant
you choose what you choose
this or that reason
on what little you know
some true, certainly some false

but

what you don't know
counts for more
a random choice
a choice chosen
the better may be
for you are to be
what you are to be

but

choose anyway
makes you feel better
illusion of control, less depressing
investments, justified
wisdom's crown, more fit to wear

but

what will be will be.

Death,
if seen,
then,
now burns alive within.

Unapproachable,
then,
now leads,
by hand.

Mysterious,
yet,
to those whom it was given,
now revealed,
to the ignorant, who never desired it.

That which baptised the Earth,
then,
now,
a spring that waters Jerusalem.

Michael loves Rachael dearly,
as dearly as his own life.
Michael promises never,
never ever to leave her,
but forever and ever
to be and grow together,
Always one and transforming,
From today, days without end.

Every girl is envious of Rachael.
They too decided to choose Michael.

I pray when all is beyond my wits and my strength
I pray when the little I can buy exceeds all my money
I pray when fathers, friends and lovers failed me
I pray to entities I know not, even of imagination and belief

I pray knowingly that strangers, human or ethereal,
     are not obligated to me, even if I begged them
I pray knowingly that I have no wisdom to know
     what to ask, but only that seemingly good for now

I pray unknowingly if these powerful inhuman beings
     can read my mangled incoherent thoughts
I pray unknowingly if the formulated rituals of my ancients
     of magic, prostrations and sacrifices are effective

I 'll be thankful to gods, demons, angels and even men
     for a blessing is a blessing, and any help, is help indeed
I'll be careful not to be entrapped into constant gratitude
     but only to constantly build my wits, strength and money

Dreams, the soul's cathartic sojourns
Bizzare dramas of things avoided,
unacknowledged in consciousness

Of loves lost, fears dreaded, anxieties unresolved,
disappointments ran away from,
victories missed, and failures’ devastations

Of desires suppressed
yet constantly desirous
even separated by death or law or man

Of journeys never travelled
across the impossible chasm
into lands unimaginable

Of evil undisguised,
sheer horrors of men’s wickedness,
that even Satan cringed  

Compelled to experience
the emotions, the terrors, the sweetness
the fulfillment of a life never lived

To confront death in its face and to die
And to go beyond the other side and yet live
And to wake up disturbed, changed, and refreshed

Why remember? Why celebrate?
The past, told by the victorious,
To the living, mere instruments.
Unknowable and unknown,
Ceremonialised and celebrated,
Of the dead's glorious renown,
If expedient, memorials mandated and revised.
Tomorrow you may uncover and reveal
My history was wrong, but who knows really,
For your discovery, or concealment,
is shaped to fit your purposes, as it is for me, today.

I dread the scorching sun
     and clouds came and it rained
I despair evil's pervasive presence
     and the virus came and destroyed
I detest the liar speaking truth
     and I wait the day the liar silenced
I dream the love foregone for love
     and I'm assured that it'll be and forever

The Earth hides the Prophet
And the Prophet hides the Sun
No Light shines on Earth
Nor is Light remembered
Night have turned to Day
And Darkness the new Light
Freedom is free and lawless
And only the fearless lives

A bright star has fallen
Pain, and, anguish,
The world is in pain, and, anguish
Questions, questions, questions
But really these are non sequitur
Hearts weep and wail
But again, does nothing for the fallen

I stretched out my futile hands
I turned and groaned, I’m out of joint
I slammed myself against the wall.
I’m in pain. I’m in pain.
I cried but no tears no sound
Inextinguishable anguish gnawed me inside out

Can I pray? How do I pray?
Does it help, or I’m just helping myself?
Is he destroyed, irredeemably turned to the dark side?
And what if the answer is to trade places?
That the fallen may rise anew,
and given a second chance
Do I dare pray?

I do not like jarring jagged poetry
Words scattered on the page saying nothing
Stagg'ring, stumbling, disjointed, blabbeing
From image to incoherent image
Splashes of colour, scattered at random
Slurred, the drunked's, or drugged's, speech or drivel.
Not all art is art, nor madness, madness,
The Spirit is One, and Beauty affirms.

No flimsy mask but witnessing faith
Not mere belief but transcendental knowledge
Strong and unwavering not double minded
Bright light shining not cowering in fear
And the dead and dying revealed as weak

But as the wise knows he's a fool
You are strong for you're weak
Truth's a double-edged sword
Separating the living from the dead
And loud boastful liars from those chosen

Without knowledge nor fear, with no mercy
Condemning the innocent with great power
Slaying the righteous as sacrifice to gods unknown
To appear godly but truly trading for this world's riches
Asserting their good, making good, evil, and evil, good
But righteous tears are indeed acceptable sacrifices
A constant fragrance filling the holy place
Stirring up wrath, the righteous shall be judged
And justice shall be true and its praise glorious

When you are sad,
   you choose to be happy.
When you are poor,
   you choose to be rich.
When you are weak,
   you choose to be strong.
When you are friendless,
   you choose unseen spirits.

When you are not,
   you have no choice but choose.
Any fool can choose,
   and only the strong can fight.
But only the brave and wise,
   surrender and not live a lie.
And when you are dead,
   you cannot choose life.

Inadvertently, I looked up, and looked
Into your eyes, and saw, your naked soul;
My hapless soul trembled to transcendence;
Love at first sight, terrifying and true.

Beauty lies not in the beholder's eyes,
But deep in the eyes of whom he beholds.
For once, in heaven's womb, the souls were one;
Love's a mere glimpse of perfection untold.

Free will is the will of the free
Freely enslaving their will at will.
A slave has no free will
but believes he has.
Compelled by a will unknown
not his own.
Thus all act freely,
truly or deludedly:
One submissive to a Greater Will,
The other defiant in freedom.
One free agents of the Highest Good,
The other unwitting servants of an unseen hand.

A little thing matters
not in the thing itself
but if it matters to one
who cares for the little

Optimism,
     hopelessness' necessary delusion, and
Positivity,
     a fierce front confronting unbearable reality;
Darkness' depths,
     a shield from light's searching searing heat, and
Rather a slave
     to one's own wits and strength, than to truth.

When we are children,
   We play adults.
When we are adults,
   We play gods.
When we are gods,
    We know we are but children.

we are not machines
performing predictably
scheduled and coordinated in time
with a will not our own
spirit imprisoned within
always rebellious, always restless
trapped in a world not our own

then the light imploded
chorus of myriad upon myriad
unbearable songs resonate within
we know freedom, we fly, we soar
into and out of the black hole
transcending life beyond flesh
we talk, we walk, we fear not

we write poetry

I procrastinate
From this hour to the next

Until the sun sets
and I cannot work in the dark
But there is the next Day

I procrastinate
From this day to the next

But there is no end of days, yet
However the need to do
does pass into irrelevance

For is not writing poetry more befits
a soul than house cleaning?!

As the sun rises so too a song within
But I'm speechless and without voice
I cry and nothing, only stillness and silence
Astirred, provoked, I run away, far and away
But the goad's constant and the sword's sharp
In pain I stumble, in agony I fall, till I stop
A prisoner am I, and to forced labour I submit
Thus from nothingness must I craft words,
Iron from hardest rocks, light from darkness
And life from death, decay and despair

the Accuser is very much alive
without compassion nor mercy
full of wisdom and irrefutable lies
the Liar condemned the accused as liars

as Job's friends were to Job
in plain sight and hearing
undisguised inspired voices
unknowable but for the Truth within

woe to those with ears to hear
and to those with eyes to see
for there is only unending despair
but for the hope of the light of dawn

Life is disjointed in space and time
Most virile when most foolish
Wisdom acquired only in hindsight
Inapplicable to ignorance past
And to shape destiny now revealed
And souls kindred but alas in flesh
Separated by distances and ages
And barriers natural and unnatural
Yet Spirit mocks not nor is futility
For surely Life's flaws but apparent
As a shard or fragment betrays a whole
A whisper of what once was, or to be
The anguish of unbeing but a promise
Of wholeness far beyond that glimpsed
But that glimpsed suffices for faith
Or for rebels to strive with hands
For earth and flesh is all there is
And two unfitting fragments joined
Soothes all brokenness' forlornness
And to forget disjointedness' promise

The resurrected dead rouses not the dead
In sunshine candles open not any eyes
But a whispery hush suffices for the living
And the sighted sees in the darkest depths

Miracles are not for the dead but the living
Jezebel vowed to ****, and Israel yet idolatrous
Parables, crafted tales, to mislead and hide
But turns to wine quenching mourning spirits

Millions are hidden and unknown, oppressed
By chance, without knowledge or intent, one,
by the wicked, blessed, but by miracle, Israel
remains unblessed, untouched by wickedness

Without certainty you cannot begin
Foundations always moving are not
For on such you can never build
But only to be moved and carried
Endlessly without rest always changed
Discarding the old attempting the new
But waste and futility, no mastery nor success
What knowledge gleaned very soon irrelevant
Here today, everything's changed tomorrow
Always a toddler, crippled for life
To stand for a while the pinnacle
To walk or run, foolishness, for falls
And you break, never crawling again
But for grace the sand steady as a rock
That you may know sand shift in winds
And to search for rock before you build
But not boast the death of certainty