For all the earth in the world,
For the varied chunks,
shapes and shades
of brown, keep an eye out!

There, somewhere in the dirt,
Next to the writhing worm,
Gasping at pockets of sunlight,
Green life ruminates, and
pushes, pushes up,
through the soil,
intrepid, unlikely.  
It abandons it's old husk house,
what little safety it knew,
and, daring to dream,
thrusts itself into existence,
and feels the day's cooling kiss,

a multi cellular masterpiece,
when yesterday, there was only
Bardo Mar 30
The house was haunted
The family fled
They couldn't find the priest
So they got me instead.

I read aloud my poems
Full of sorrow and pain,
About dreary things
And nearly going insane.

"My Gawd", the ghosts cried
" This is fierce gloomy stuff,
I thought we were bad
But this, Enough! Enough! "

Well they wailed and they shrieked
And they wailed some more
Then holding their ears
They ran out the door.

Even ghosts they desert me I thought
After they'd gone
They'd never even heard of a sorrow
   so deep
Or a pain as sharp as mine.

I sat there all alone in the silent house
With not a whisper, no! not a mouse
When all of a sudden there came
   something strange
A little sound like that of slow trickling

"Have you something to say to me
   House", I asked
"Before I up and leave you forever",
The little sound, it stopped all at once
   and looked up
As if very surprised at having been

I rose to leave
But quickly turned back amazed
When from down & out of the
Crept this little voice so slight & warm
   & tender.

" Forgive me Sir", it said,
"But I could contain myself no longer,
That little sound you hear, the tiny
Is but the teardrops from my eyes

Such a pain and sorrow as yours
I never heard before
Those anguish drenched words
They seeped through my walls right
   into my heart

They pierced me deeply,
Yea, they pretty near tore me apart,
I'll remember you Sir when you're
I don't think I could ever forget you".

I listened and was sorely moved
"Thank you House ", I said, "thank
    you, thank you kindly"
And turning again at the front door
"Goodbye House, look after those
   who'll live here, won't you".

Outside the birds, they were singing
And up in the sky, the sun
The sun, it was shining.
This started out as a joke but then went somewhere else. Hope you enjoy & Happy Easter.
Braxan Dec 2016
I have lived some years, In contrast to the years that have yet to come, even though I’ve never lived a life, there’s this one with you in Philadelphia.
In my dreams I often see a beach home with dogs and all the miricles, where someday everything; it’ll all make sense. Some days I believe this place is stomping grounds for you, and I’ve gone ahead and killed off all of your affairs cause now stories say the off white house with one garage is haunted,
Though now I only have this lifetime to reflect and roll it off on my dreams as just cause.

writerReader Jan 2015
i went to
a party at
a house that i
used to live
wonton wager weighed and cast
both for and against the mass
gold tinkling on the margins
certain the house always wins

calculating body, building laws
clutching levers, people command
with traps for the simple;
backdoors open for friends

robed judges carefully picked
follow rotten party planks
weigh scales tilting favors
they proclaim "rule of law"

counting up patron's profits
pockets stuffed with change
sever community, plan wars
neglect settling our peace

the orphan and widow,
the poor and lame lie
homeless on the road
starving, eat dropped crumbs

"Come now, let us reason together,
(says the Lord):

though your sins are like scarlet,
    they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,
    they shall become like wool."
2018 © Christos Victor

16 Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean;
    remove the evil of your deeds from before my eyes;
cease to do evil,
17     learn to do good;
seek justice,
    correct oppression;
bring justice to the fatherless,
    plead the widow's cause.

18 “Come now, let us reason[a] together, says the Lord:
though your sins are like scarlet,
    they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,
    they shall become like wool.
19 If you are willing and obedient,
    you shall eat the good of the land;
20 but if you refuse and rebel,
    you shall be eaten by the sword;
    for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

Isaiah 1:16-20 English Standard Version (ESV)
Jordan Rowan Feb 2016
I'm somewhere else
And you're right here
I need time to become clear
If all is well
And we can't tell
Sometimes things just disappear

There's stones to find
And towns to go
Stories to hear and myths to know
It's all right here
Written down
But who wrote it's in the ground

And down by the house on the lake
No string is loose, no word is fake
Sing as the winter blows
Past our heads and down the road

There's a car outside
It's running low
But it still finds a way to go
When I get young
I'll understand
But right now, I'm sure I don't

If time is past
Or up ahead
It's all too much for my head
Can I just sleep?
And dream in song
For it won't be long before I'm dead

And down by the house on the lake
No string is loose, no word is fake
Sing as the winter blows
Past our heads and down the road
Zen Dog Jul 28
There's so much history beneath our feet, these floorboards rippling, whispering scenes.

Each wavy window is a spying eye which humbly boasts of the ghosts inside.

These walls do talk with each settling groan with the memory of all that have called this home.

Though it is our time now to haunt this space and lay claim to ours in this crooked place.

Someday we too will be just a name on the deed, just a faint feeling seeping from the seams.

For now though, let us honor these wooden bones and add to the memories of this place we call home.
arizona Jul 26
There is a draft that
creeps along the floorboards
from a door that has been
slammed too many times before,
I bet if you look closely,
there are etchings in the grain
from suitcases that paced
in the late hours.

Sometimes the house creaks
and carries the echoes of
words that used to
ricochet along the walls,
careful to avoid
the deep scratches and
body-sized holes.

In the end,
she still held the hand
that always held her down.
He would twist her arms,
twist her words until they
formed a knot
around her lungs;
instinct still caused
her throat to preserve
pleas for mercy.
Next page