Don't let it

get you down*

whether it's tomorrow

or the moment now-



still is my heart

whether events delight or frown

to faith I dearly hold

I'm unshaken on my very ground

This was written before the death of Bin Laden it is an indictment against brazen Godless conduct it
deserves to be reread at the end I take up what I saw in the spirit when I looked on the Jordanian pilot

The Flame of Blessing

America’s warriors face dangers untold in a country unlike our own where violent war is a way of life
In evils caldron that burns with natural order hate, teaching laced with poison and ****** is honorable
This can only thrive in a society that kills truth and then in falsehood their black robes invite all strife
Chaos butchery all manner of anarchy is used to try to subdue a people’s God given right to be free
Our troops in one way or another are set to burning Miss Liberty is in their hearts although latent
All that is needed to cause liberty’s flame to blaze is put these blessed ones in contact with tyranny
Every insult and criticism is leveled at the U.S. we need improvement but let evil show and be blatant
Ordinary kids from American streets will rise the last thing you will see is freedom blazing in their eyes
Black hearts are tuff pushing the weak and there fanaticism pretends at being brave every bully’s trait
These cannot be reasoned with madness has one cure annihilation this fight not for the faint hearted
The enemy needs a history lesson Tara, Iwo Jima; Omaha beach a brother hood reborn gun barrel strait
You posses by ideology penned by hell’s most convincing liar we come bearing truth then arms
God’s shadow first then Miss Liberty looms then the unquenchable prayers of a nation they pray for you
Peace, tranquility is worth our sacrifice you are left with a tattered rag a soiled flag marred by carnage
To bleed, true honor the making of a house of arms it will succeed in all war and conflict peace to accrue
We take God given might temper it with mercy and justice for all we are not timid in freedom’s fight
This is the my candle burning


but when I looked upon the
Jordanian pilot I saw the epitome of innocence a softness that melted the bars he was already free
before they set the flame it was to be an act that would shame him the flames were consumed by
glory a soul reaching the zenith of freedom he joined a very rare and select group martyred
instantly he grew in stature to embody all of his people forever he is part of their hearts and
minds as long as they are a people he will be at the forefront beyond life but ever close when
principal and ideals are spoken you need not to look any farther than this hero this man of dignity
and honor that put truth before personnel safety to state the importance that can never be extolled
enough all that I hold dear is confined in the border of my country it holds my God my family
the one cause that cannot be trifled with it is too dangerous and crucial to all public life

Hands of infinite filth closed the cage door in doing so they chained themselves to dishonor and
eternal damnable flames but for this soul now condemned a transformation took place the distant  
pure waters of Jordan were splashing down his head and face with refreshing on the inside his
country sent fresh breezes filled with thanks and prayers of love for their native son who he was
before was changed in this hour of trial any and all errors of thought and action fell away being
replaced by resplendent glory I have over a life time seen innumerable sights in nature and in
people but this lovely man rose above them all it was telling he possessed an admirable
countenance he stepped over his previous linage into the royal house he beamed a silent
resoluteness it was pure vibrancy they didn’t take his soul when he climbed into that cockpit he
gave it to all that was dear and just but what of them this best describes their sick malevolent
existence Voltaire was a rampant Godless atheist he loved the role his whole life how he spoke
and wrote  with such joy but at death he jumped from his death bed he looked across the room
and with terror almost inaudible he said I hear chains and they are for me the Devil brings them
to bind me forever these men turned to mongrel mad dogs will soon have the same end what
fools and what a man of untold courage forever he will be extolled as a man for peace and
justice

O timeless sloth, I must with thee abide,
Let it be not to my own destruction.
Another life from me thou must divide,
Say to me t’was of mine own instruction!

I cling desperately to thine branches
I must weather the slings and arrows of
Most untimely sharp commands, and blanches
At my staunch resoluteness thereof.

Cease! Cease! See not the moss amongst my hairs,
Nor my talon-like nails, still, motionless.
Judge not, entwined as thou art in bland affairs
In your gray monuments to boastfulness

For nothing is equal to nothing.
To mime futile work is all but bluffing.

through the lips of
the horizon
a purple parasol
of attenuated *****
  spread, flagrant is the crepuscule.

these are the exiled
  in the heliotrope world:

trees saluting the length
  of sprinting air to calm
  these undulations -
  painted are the leaves
  with blame.

lips sinking to find answers
hidden underneath the
derelict of sweat, noisome moan
after quieted breathing,
heavy with the undeniable boulder
  of craving's weight -
  tongue naked, freeing itself
  from the oubliette of flesh,
  finding what is still to be
   tasted in a covetous harvest,

it is indeed strange to be here,
  in this absolute hour
  of absent resoluteness.
to deny want and embrace fullness,
my eyes ***** these visions
   and then dive through steepness.
  no words have to be said,
  only their significations
   held secretively as roots
  are unseen flourishing in their
    obligations to this flower,
    your flower

  underneath the twilight
   of bodies crossing each other
  out, love's derivatives
    ensue.

The day slips away
it wouldn't bother
to say--
'see you tomorrow'
nor 'goodbye'

the moral--
time and I
always the 'twain'
but me it's too keen
to deny
with words:
'  that person
claims me a friend
and confidant
I think he does lie
for to none
do I belong
I'm no one's keeper
just an indifferent passer-by'

its tone is
harsh
contemptuous
incriminating
abrasive
and dry

am I
the trouble
that separates
myself
from life
or is it
but a trickster
bouncing its *****
of promised hopes
seducing me
right before my very
eye?

but no longer
am I
a child
to be beguiled

I'll stand
my ground
(while time
and life slip by)
in my resoluteness

ready
for a good
and
uncompromising fight
I won't forgo
my living right

I'll go beyond
myself
I'll reach
for the sky
and my words
of freedom
and fearlessness
write
upon its face:
'a man is born
to live
and must learn
to death defy
and invent
his own wings
to fly
where his heart leads
to lands wet
or dry
to every height
and no sky
will be too high'

I'll not hide
behind a curtain
nor construct
a wall
or fortress
least of all
would I retreat
to a lonely corner
my tears to dry

born alone
I'll seek no ally
if I stretch out
my heart
to the splendour
of love
to beauty's wonder
if my lips
are warm
kiss-ready
I'd have had
a foretaste of
life's honey
the grandest feast
I'd have dined

the day
would slip away
and me
it would envy

in its loss of words
I'd be left alone
in a world I've carved
and now I call my own

I've created
my own
bon nuit
and bonjour.

wish not to be
resoluteness of the giant sail
in stormy tides
but the innocence of
a paper boat
floating away in
in monsoon

to encompass the whole of humanity,
you really need to think
of the represented "minority"...
       which, "ironically"
                 is much more than what
     ι is, when it arrives at the gates of Σ.
for me: mortality
       and materialism are synonymous...
albeit constructed from
           a different crossword clue...
                           but came a man with
a dog...
                   came hades with cerberus...
then came a man with
a cat and a sparrow in its jaws,
  dropped on
a worded "caution"...
          and then man was left with
a dying sparrow in his hand...
            am i not a taoist,
concerning myself with a blank pixel
"paper"?
        i guess...
                  owning a cupboard would
be as meaningful
as owning cups and saucers...
it's this extreme of counter-voyeurism...
which poetry has become...
if one can be...
       predictable
                    and consistent...
                     counter-thesis
                      to the idealisation of man;
within the guise of thought
that only men with interesting lives
ever wrote books...
     akin to casanova...
      
        **** the books! have the life!
just imagine casanova being implanted
with a desire to write, or ghost write
like some roman general
to a page...
                caligula reciting
                 his ****-fest to a minor...
stipend of a bureaucrat....
            
       all i did amounted to a game
of squinting with my cat occupying
my bed... the creaking of a chair...
and the odd-hovering-over
clicking noises imposed by a keyboard
of a computer screen,
while listening to soviet anthems
with a beethoven resoluteness of
becoming deaf...
        reading snippets of heidegger
in between...

          mongrel, or what?

PILGRIMAGE

as the wanderer wanders
he has travelled to and fro
his search took him away
through the miles and miles  
he will spend each day and night
walking, the weather underscored
and the resoluteness he shows
having the heavy blisters on his feet
he remains resolute, determined
going all the way, through his pain
no matter he will decide when this
pilgrimage he started, comes to it's end

by Michael Perry