You are not god, you are not my Lord;
You are a beast that corrupts my soul;
I find peace not, when I pray in thee;
You have tainted my soul--you have hurt me.

You are a fiend, just like all my friends;
You are tied to an awkward time and space.
And is your soul as sharp as your false prayers?
I can find words that shall hear me better.

You are no safety, nor any assurance;
I hate your speech--within your cold Bible;
You are not worthy of love, nor any true spirit;
You are a mere space no sane souls can ever meet.

I used to know, in Heaven, another Lord;
But my faith was marred, it was distorted.
This Lord of mine was kind and simple;
His heart was all-resilient and humble.

My Lord was gone in one sway of smoke;
As none wanted to hear more from me.
I was strong in faith--and t'is was no joke;
But none would look, and pushed Him fast away.

Ah, my Lord, in whom I used to hear salvation;
And not grief like this which burns my heart.
I found within me--a great deal of admiration;
But none would believe, and He was made gone.

I knew another, in more mature years;
But He was as crude as a grizzly bear.
With His soulless heart, he tore my faith up;
'Till my heart withered, and nothing remained.

He preached but the beauty of wealth;
And to forge maturity on this dire soil;
He turned one another an enemy;
He played with fate, as if ‘twas His doll.

I was in deep grief, I was in bare crises;
I believed not the sun sets and the moon rises.
Ah, Lord, and after I lost thee even more;
I roamed sightlessly like none before.

And now I’th been forced back to thee;
Art thou still hungry, or art thou satisfied?
Haven’t thou sent me enough agony;
When shall thou finally give up?

Now I hath been cramped back to thee;
Art thou still angry--doth thou want to **** me?
Thou explaineth never--why I taketh my breath;
Thou reasoneth never--what is in life after death.

For I believe triumphs are not for those who sin;
For I believe prayers are not done by the mean.
For I believe in life there is no such scarcity;
For I believe we are united by wordless destiny.

For I believe He is One; and is loved freely;
For I believe He loves back, with relentless mercy;
For I believe He is the One, and owneth no partner;
For I believe He is who rules, and not another.

For I believe none was made crucified;
For I believe He is alive, and shall never die;
For I believe such stories are all but a lie;
For He is who gives, and breathes sight to the eye.

For I believe the cross is no glory;
For I believe such is a vain myth;
For I believe He is absolute;
For I believe He is the only Truth.

And about this I can lie no more;
Nor stand back as I did before.
He is who holds my mortal hands;
He who cares better than my friends.

Still I am lost, I am lost in thee;
For thou hath betrayed my most questions.
For thou hath no words--nor poetry in me;
For thou ignore--and neglect me in disambiguation.

And I hate thee, I hate thee too much;
Thou hath blinded me and led me astray.
Thou giveth room but to desire and lust;
Thou lead my soul to ultimate decay.

Thou regard not shyness and virginity;
Thou accept not humble words and pure sympathy.
Thou encourage day and night ecstasy;
Thou disfigure us by mock forgiveness.

Thou told us to be unjust and sin;
Thou told us to pursue and be mean;
Thou loveth pleasure, and left me unsure;
Thou gave me disease, but showed me no cure.

Now I’th realised that my God is Him;
He who attends my day and night dreams.
I care not what thy devils may say;
I shall care for Him only--all through the night and day.

For the Lord who leads and forgives;
For the Lord who dies not and shall live;
For the Lord whose Throne is up high;
Veiled perfectly by the blue midnight sky.

For the Lord who creates life and death;
For the Lord who gives mouths and breath.
For the Lord who is One and only;
For the Lord who is sole and fair.

Then I can pray with my whole sane heart;
And rest my minds from this lifelong war;
My Lord is One who lets my blood flow;
Years back, presently, the day after tomorrow.

And by Him I shall remain prudent;
Though He is far and farther and invisible.
I shall long for His Paradise and Heaven;
One for the kind hearts; for the devoted and humble.

Then I shall craft even more poetry;
A poem for my Lord’s tremendous delights;
I shall make it warm and lively;
And tell tales of future years in Paradise.

And I shall turn back to Your prayers, God;
After years and years of fraying Thee alone.
Now I shall come back to my untainted faith;
Please hesitate not, nor make me need to wait.

For in You only doth I find my doors;
And answers to my once lonely heart;
I cannot lie back, I cannot lie no more;
That I and Thee can never stay apart.

And my faith will be like those stern winds;
They can be felt, while remain unseen;
Wish me a welcome, and not a farewell;
Keep me safe from Thy spells of hell.

And let me remain in my bows;
As I shout my praise, as my head goes low.
And breathe more life into my ****** hands;
Make me the noblest on my lands.

And let me remain where I am;
As stars sparkles, and lower the maroon sun;
Where I but mention Thy Holy Name;
And cite Thy praise, as daylight is gone.

the war zone is open
a simple stumble
onto a carelessly unplanted landmine
the photographic proof
of the ones in the winning troops
a wire was tripped
my carefully grounded feet
now stumble sightlessly through
confused by combat
as the clouds of battle
brew and storm
mushroom around me
my soul is shattered
by the shrapnel of the relationships
that were never quite had
grenades packed with unbidden love
a thousand times stronger
than any known explosive
scar and pock my psyche
with their silent detonations
the rockets of unreason
guided by an unbalanced radar
pierce the pretend walls of armor
which were never successfully reinforced
this isn't the first or worst battle
know it won't be the last,
because
there is no safe zone
there is no ceasefire
there is only surrender
to the ceaseless uncertainty
a prisoner of my own
hostile forces

Last night I asked Mother Sky
to lay me down
under the stars.
She covered the long day
with her black/blue quilt
tucking away
my rapid heart.

Brushing the unkempt hair
from my eyes
she warmed me
with deep sea breaths
and showed me how much
she loved me.
Her finger drew
a shooting star
as she measured
herself in a whisper,
"From here, my dear,
.........................to there."

Mother offered me
a drink from her ladled cup.
I chose the big one
with both hands
consuming every drop
until my lips finished
with a satisfied "Aaaaaaahhh".
I handed her the twinkling chalice
which she hung again
by the North Star.

I resigned my head
to the grassy pillow
my eyes lost in retreat.
"Will you sing to me?"
I asked sightlessly.
From the corners of Endless
she coaxed
soft soothing melodies,
while the Sandman
strummed willow trees
to her song.

I came upon Neruda today,
laying open, catching the sun
Just sitting there on the old  wooden bench

Much loved and well thumbed,
spine broken, ringed a dozen times
with tea, coffee, goodness know what..

That lugubrious face, staring sightlessly
out into, the world...

and my thoughts, drifted,  to you,
my friend, whose voice I never heard
but knew the passion of the writer,
He Pablo, was one of your heros..
and as I flicked through the beauty
of words, so emphatic and beautiful
so sublime, so masterfully crafted.

I paused and smiled, thinking of
you and he sitting on a park bench
on some other plane....
discussing words and their worth...

I left Neruda there to captivate
another mind and heart....

and went on my way...
somewhat
lighter of heart....

You only can die but once, they say,
There isn’t a second time,
We carry fears all along the years
When we think, which day is mine?
We envisage that marble headstone
That’s indicative of our fate,
Standing ***** in some unknown field,
And wonder about the date.

How often we hear that someone said
While trying to be more than brave,
But shuddering at the thought of the dead,
‘Someone just walked on my grave.’
It creeps on up, the length of your spine
The shiver that never ends,
Bringing a list of your sins to mind
With no time to make amends.

You think of that open casket,
And lying there sightlessly,
So all can stare, and look at you there,
‘I’m glad that it isn’t me.’
We wonder if we will hear them sigh
About all the good we did,
Or even know, if terror will grow
The moment they close the lid.

I think about Averill Crombie
Who said that she knew the date,
And suddenly died as she sat wide-eyed
Poking the fire in the grate.
We all went along to the service,
To say our goodbyes, as we should,
But then our hair, stood up in the air,
On hearing three taps on the wood.

We scrambled to open the coffin,
To find her still breathing in there,
And then she began to start coughing,
******* in lungfuls of air.
She tried to climb out of the casket
With many a cuss and a curse,
But then must have blown a gasket,
So we carried her into the hearse.

You only can die but once, they say,
There isn’t a second time,
She knew the date, it was simply fate
But the first time blew her mind.
I still see them lower her into the ground
When she’d died, just twice, perhaps,
But I couldn’t swear, when leaving her there
That there weren’t three ghostly taps.

David Lewis Paget

stepping onto the edge of a cliff
golden prairie brushing against your skin
the frothy seas bristle as thoughts float adrift
as waves crash onto sheer white rocks akin

breathe, you are a tree
the breeze resurfaces and kisses a melody
exhale, let the tension drain out
as the sky tumbles to commemorate your tragedies

close your eyes, you remain a tree
your roots travel far underneath
allow the space to come from within
and from the heart so shackled, so begin

balance against the tide
sightlessly gazing onto present converged  
a foot on land and another in space once denied  
open your gaze to your experiences submerged

stay, patience, let your branches grow
sleep, meditate, let your spirit heal
as the waves crash on those tumbling white stones
and an inner smile diminishes your withering woes

how do broken dreams
smell while they be fresh
as furless in a snow
as shivering naked flesh

amid a creatures crowd
it wanders sightlessly
and drowns with every breath
when skips few of its beat

this flickering noise it makes
with dying of this day
a solemn heart does shrink
as petals plucked away

and still be set ablaze
by fierceness of night
in midst of mocking stars
in staleness of its plight

i tread along this time
as pilgrims by the sea
and leave for fate to meet
an intolerable prophecy

the ways that the candlelight
would illuminate the rises of your cheeks --

soft, sullen, sunken,
stretched, silhouetted.

the ways that my fingertips
would trace the point of your nose,
the fluttering frames of your eyelashes,
the ever-running ridges of your spine.

how you would speak to me
about far-off lands, gods and Greeks --

singing, sighing, searching,
sleeplessly, sightlessly.

the ways that your nails
would ebb and flow over the distant
distinct disconnected dashes of those
that dared to walk before those like us.

meager.
minuscule.
misplaced.

<Warning: This is brutal, I apologise if i upset.>

There is a scream beginning to resound in the caverns of my mind
Echoing around, bouncing forth and scratching at the walls
There is no sound to this unearthly yell, no form or function precise
It gives it's life to all i have seen, existence in calamitous expression
It cannot be ignored or pushed back into the depths
To writhe and tremble with the other demons thirsting for a chance
It exists as much as i can be, as real as anything here
Within i see many things, for the scream, the scream is me.
My mind is breathless as i am crushed by the lives i am responsible for
The empty accusing eyes stare sightlessly as they pin me to the floor
My scream is soundless here, however theirs is not
The empty lungs sound continuously, a cacophony of regret
This is not my scream, not my sound but theirs, for my grief
For they made their choice, as did i, it was me that walked away
It is for those that could not choose, had no choice, no freedom to exist
The children that paid the toll for the choices adults made
I've seen their tiny bodies bleeding out into the dust
Eyes in desperate incomprehension look at me hope i will make things right
And i cannot do anything but sigh in self disgust.
I didn't take those little lives i was supposed to protect
But it was i that had to watch them die, filled with remorse and regret
To yell within my echoing mind, why not me my life for theirs
And there is no power watching to make a deal with my despair.
That is where the scream began, all those years ago and far away
For every experience similar it has grown and developed teeth
And now it warps around my mind, suffocating thought
Because children are dying is an acceptable phrase and i rage because it's so
Rage again for i am powerless to change such a fate, mine and theirs
So i roar back in fury at the scream resounding through mind
For it's my face screaming back at me in eternal, cacophonous agony.

The world is comprised
of the four directions;
I stand squared within,
eyelids closed tightly,
gazing sightlessly upon
the nothingness that is,
the nothingness that isn't;
a blind navigator
hoping to discover
the impossible path
back up the rabbit hole
to the reservoir of tears
some men call life.

  ~mce

(as T. S. Eliot might have written it)

Lady, three blind mice sat under the wainscot,
silently waiting, sightlessly waiting, while in the garden
the blackbird sang and the children
played at knucklebones. The farmer's wife
entered the kitchen,
entered the warm kitchen,
preparing to prepare the meal for the children.
Crumbs fell from the table
but the mice said , We are not
worthy we are not
worthy. And they all ran
after the farmer's wife.
     Well, I ask you. Did you ever
see such a thing? Did you ever?
Quick as a flash she was,
took the carving knife to them,
chopped their tails right off.
Sorted them out good and proper, I'll tell you.
Did you ever see such a thing in your life?
Did you? Did you ever?
Three blind mice!

There is power in your youth.
With age comes wisdom, but with youth comes awareness.
Sponge-like minds that soak up fluid-like life.
Pouring through time, sightlessly approaching the vapors of vanishment.
But we may abuse their power.
As they mirror those they idolize,
Following, yet creating paths all at once.
Deserving of shepherds and not sheep-
So they can lead the world.
Deserving of bridges and not tunnels-
So they can see it ...

Rise with a wave
And come down, hard
Water is as unforgiving
As a reluctant lover

Your boots were polished
Shining with warm fury
and silence,
like soft breezes
before a summer storm

the twist was felt, three times
hot tea burning my fingers
even with two sugars
it couldn’t have been sweet
And I saw you
standing at my back in the hallway mirror
reflecting everything I had dreamed
the night before

I rose, twice, on the same wave
My knuckles whitened to birch bark
Eyes sightlessly heavenward
I churned like seaweed, and spun
outwards, upwards into space

my skin burned with your passed-on laughter
and, Danny, I knew
it was all forgiven because
I wished to strangle you,
or perhaps I wanted to marry you.

I flicked hair from my eyes
As the tide came in
Swirling, rising to my knees.
I stared down the sun
And waited.