THE AWAKENING

Nothing’s as it seems.

It seems

my perceptions

Cannot fathom the direction

In which I am truly going

Instead they keep me slowing

To languish over milkish spills

And swallow oblong pinkish pills

Which keep the horrish voices still

But cannot give my life the thrill

That it was made for

Before the Great War

Delivered the death blow

But victory comes slow

When you’re king of eternity

Eyes open when it’s time to see

Can’t rush the awakening

Some boots will be quakening

But others will be kneeling

Or dancing on the ceiling

Bodies reeling

From the blows of love

Sent from above

Like a mighty thunder

You best get under

The sacred umbrella

And like Cinderella

Let the magic transform you

The clothes that are worn through

And torn by the wicked witch

Receive much more than a stitch

When the black night falls from the sky.

Now learn the mystery

Passed down through history:

To live we all must die.

MY AMERICA

Time to clear the air, take some spare

Time to evaluate the ways we hesitate

And let opportunities pass

To follow the mass

Of people instead of trusting

Our instincts and busting

Out of the mold, risking the cold

Shoulders of others, our sisters and brothers

Who prefer to swallow

The party line and follow

The herd to the slaughter

Political fodder

For the power-elite

Oops, press delete

Rather be spared the treat

of a boarding of water

my resolve likely totter

and my faith in the system

flushed down the cistern, this term

will outlast my will as an outcast,

drinking an empty glass

that’s full of some more crass

statements that alienate

the people of this great

           nation.

NORTHBOUND REDLINE

Squeezing, cramped,

Lowered gazes

Nothing phases

Me anymore

Life’s a chore

And infinity jests

As it flexes

Its mighty arm

Like a charm

My gaze is steadied

And my heart readied

To battle demons

Red, blue and green ones

Seen some in purple too

I.O.U.

An explanation

Morse code destination

Now parked at the station

Meanwhile the nation

Watches from satellite

As from the train I alight.

WORDS

Stain the pages with talk of the ages

Religious convictions that keep causing frictions.

Verbal abuse, you’ve been so profuse

I’ve suffered an overdose of diction.

Ironically speaking, it is quite intriguing

How words speak of shutting up words.

Like fire on fire, it often inspires

a raging inferno at first.

Then, once subsided, each world has collided

and finally runs out of thirst.

JOURNEY

Time to cut loose

Still have that noose

Around my neck

Life is a wreck

Since I’m constrained here

Through some pained tears

Want to fly but

Stuck with dry gut

No juices flowing

Winds, they’re not blowing

My direction

Insurrection

From within,

But through the din

A light is shining

Dimly my King

Comes to view

After a few

Minutes of waiting

Heart’s hesitating

What’s the matter, son?

Can’t help come undone?

That’s my problem

Poets, I rob them

Tryin’ to get high

But only you can fly

You said you’d teach me

it’s so hard to reach me

So we’ll take a rain check

I’ll be at the train deck-

You could say the station-

Waiting for my destination

RESTORATION

Relinquish this life would I readily

For the promise of love that grows steadily

In place of the state of the world as we know it

Where decay robs all things, including this poet

For never to age nor perish we long

As if for the chords of a faraway song

That once we had sung but long since forgotten

Now dismayed and disdained,

blood-stained and rotten

We labor along, hastening that day

When, in a flash, the chorus will play

And there, be restored to the glory once held

Behind fateful journeys that promises spelled

To return to our places of glorious splendor

Seated on thrones with touches so tender

That hearts will be melted in pools of communion

Not Midas, but better, more precious than bullion