Lacunae 1

Early And Missing Poems By Thomas Michael Malo

DogBoy / TinSoldier Publishing

I began writing poetry my sophomore year in high school, and have continued sporadically though faithfully for over 50 years now. Both Hardin County Anthology and Beside Cold Water were collections edited into their current forms in 2010. Both collections contain some selected older poems. Here you may read some of the poems I decided not to include in those two collections. I put the final edition of The Long Sweet Fall together in 2017. You may also read several small poems here I decided not to include in that collection. I have also included here one new poem that I decided not to include in my current collection, Poems Of The First And Last Kind.

1) Between The Heart And Soul is the oldest poem presented here. I originally wrote the Liese stanza first in the Spring of 1966. The stanzas are about real young ladies that I went to high school with, with the exception of the first and last stanzas and the And Be Kind stanza which was adapted from a poem of the same name. The And So Falls A Man stanza was also adapted from a poem of the same name and concerns the same young lady as the Pamela stanza, an on and off steady that I would eventually become briefly engaged to marry. The young lady I would eventually marry is mentioned in one of the stanzas as well, though I won’t divulge which. In 1966 the form of the poem was in eight stanzas and the two separate poems mentioned above. It underwent massive editing in 1977 and 78 in preparation for publication, and it is in that form as it is presented here.

2) Idylls was originally composed in Spring 1967, entitled Theolosus In The Dark and rather audaciously turned in as a term paper in my senior creative writing class, earning a resounding F from my teacher. It underwent massive editing into its current form in 1977 and 78 in preparation for publication getting a new title Theopathy. In 2000 it was edited again into the form presented here and got its final title Idylls, and was briefly included in a short chapbook publication called The River and then removed. It always seemed a bit too pretentious to me, though some of the emotion of the poem is quite beautiful.

3) Lost Baby Lost was written in the Fall of 1967. It is in its original form having gotten only minor corrections in 1977 and 78 in preparation for publication. I personally have always liked the poem but I can never seem to fit it into a collection. I did consider it for both Hardin County Anthology and Beside Cold Water but its form seemed too divergent from the other poems.

4) Cemetery is an early poem written sometime between my brother’s death in 1976 and the birth of my second daughter in 1973. I was always slightly dissatisfied with the form so though it is a decent poem it has never made it into a collection.

5) South Side Winter Love Song was written entirely in the winter of 1977-78. It was never seriously prepared for publication and remains in its original form. It was a time of deep grief for me following the untimely death of my younger brother in the Fall of 1976, and later the death of young woman friend Kathy, both deaths linked to the drug culture. I did publish the two stanzas concerning my brother and Kathy separately in Hardin County Anthology entitled respectively Snow Without Cold and The Ice Palace. At the time I was working in a tank truck factory under government contract during the day, and my father’s gas station at night. My brief dabbling with my wife’s Christian Fundamentalism was collapsing and reinventing itself at the time, and I was drinking heavily. On the surface the poem deals with the drug, alcohol, and bar social culture of young blue collar people on the south side of Milwaukee, but more deeply it represents a catharsis reaching my soul almost unawares. Though I feel the poem was never completed in its center, the end moved me on to new philosophical perceptions. It should be taken as an incomplete and unpolished work that finished itself and moved on through the mystery of poetry.

6) Letter To An Old Friend was written around 1982 though I cannot pinpoint the date as it was never published. It was part of a group of poems criticizing Christian Fundamentalism that I was preparing at the time that evolved rather quickly into my original discussions on apologetics and ontology included in Retrousage first published in part in 1985 as The Altar Of Relativity. Many poems from that original group have survived including Dungeons, Grace, Toward The End Of Each December, I Met A Savior On A Ghetto Street, For Malachi, All Night Long, and Annie Johnson which are all included in Hardin County Anthology. More recently I reworked Little Beggar Jesus for inclusion in Poems Of The First And Last Kind. The first of the original group was entitled Noblesse Oblige and is missing and several others in song form which were on an audio cassette are gone as well. If anyone still has an original copy of the Altar Of Relativity, or one of the audio cassettes I would like to read and listen sometime.

7) Dancing Children Disappear I would guess to be from around 1991. I have always considered it a transitional piece and so it has never been edited or published. I lifted some lines and ideas from it in The River which is in Hardin County Anthology and more importantly I lifted some lines and ideas from it in Journal: Hard Rhymes, Hard Times, Wedding Chymes and The Charm which are both included in Beside Cold Water.

8) I Close My Eyes is also circa 1991 and transitional, and though I consider it a good poem I have never considered publishing it. More importantly distracting me as I worked on it the first stanza I wrote for Journal: Hard Rhymes, Hard Times, Wedding Chymes took shape beginning with … the king went up on Tara, certain he was sane, speaking only nonsense, mumbling in the rain beginning a three year poetic journey for me. Together Dancing Children Disappear and I Close My Eyes birthed Journal: Hard Rhymes, Hard Times, Wedding Chymes which I personally consider to be one of my best works.

9) The Insinuation from 2009 was originally intended for inclusion in The Long Sweet Fall but I eventually considered it too angry and left it out. The last two lines express my deep frustration with some extended family members.

10) The Twelfth Day is also from 2009 and intended for inclusion in the Long Sweet Fall. It was written in expectation of the arrival of Cassandra’s children to come and go through her things and pick the things they wanted to keep after her death. I did not consider it polished enough to publish.

11) Read My Mind is also from 2009 and intended for inclusion in the Long Sweet Fall but I considered it too simplistic and unpolished for inclusion.

12) I Fear No Evil is also from 2009 and intended for inclusion in the Long Sweet Fall but again I considered it a poem too simplistic for inclusion.

13) Spectacular Devastation is recent from July 2020 written in memory of my dear friend Troy following his suicide over a woman. I thought to include it in Poems Of The First And Last Kind but decided not to because of the subject matter. I did publish it as a single poem a few days after his death.

Between The Heart And Soul

this is a vision

of a midnight sublime

a twelvish revealing

subliminal rhyme

the subconscious swain

herein patronized

are but minions of love

merely categorized

as apparitions of passion

attempt to librate

between the heart and soul

of this incognizant inmate

a jubilant fire

that shakes the day into light

incommensurate aura

elucidating night

impregnable eyes

colored autumn in gaiety

maelstrom swan grace

of astute eccentricity

notional clouds

form a tranquil rain

at the lips of spirit

of her named Jane

a childlike erotic

gossamer dance

glancing bouquets of morphia

bound to entrance

velum flesh murmurs

periphrastic seduction

lit lucarne eyes

illume outraged rejection

the adolescent omniscient

enigma of Kate

brings the perpetual

evangel sweet stalemate

a pervading smile

glares from lips so forlorn

in exigent liberty

her sorrow is born

a primeval creature

suborns shackles of desire

for the eremite prison

of freedoms quagmire

and rides the wind bravely

with tears in her eyes

walks a treacherous wire

my Liese of lies

vacuous memories

form delusions unkind

distorting reflections

in the mirrors of your mind

old rotting romances

poetry’s smoke in your flue

consecutive numb words

in your heart all askew

collections of glass

dancing dolls in the snow

are what’s left of your dreams

little orphan i know

dangling freely ends

this dream’s halfway contraction

awakened with desire

and foregone satisfaction

ethereal footloose fantasies

have yet to be explored

unfinished counter plots

are yet to be deplored

so through this pseudo intellect

i fade again to find

sleep’s unfolding drama

and i hope it will be kind

though garish gingham gladiators

strut sterile strumpet stratagems

ignore illusive imagists

reproach termagant tragediennes

though wounded wings resile

as intimate sensual intrigants

depluming their pathos for you

invite no inveterate sacraments

coalesce them with another

as a goddess contrive to console

prescribe polyvalent hope

sister you are my soul

hurdy gurdy hurricanes

blast bullet drops of wet

percussive pious pentacles

resound with self regret

the planetary placenta

expurgating my fears

a hieratic inundation

of extraterrestrial tears

the cooling aqueous therapy

for flaming insurgent pain

is perhaps my safest love

the nebulous lady rain

flashing frozen flirtatious

left handed lips

debilitant Donna's

ebullient passions eclipse

with sensual epitomes

my heart’s futile resistance

with her denuding glacial

heretic sexual persistence

emasculated in her

manifest blizzard’s distraint

I lucubrate love's

holophrasic complaint

with libidinous license

my tongue searches the mouth

of the insusceptible intemperate

pander of the south

hot love’s induction

an innervate infection

forces flagitious purging

my heart’s resurrection

retreating at last

from my rhapsodic monotone

my insatiable paramour

miss Pamela stone

what hasn’t been said

is a fool’s consolation

this highwayman love

maligns hesitation

a miscegenation

of intelligence and emotion

molds a monoplegic heart

and an inert devotion

incarcerated by confusion

and logic’s leper hand

i scarify my passion

and so falls a man

this is a vision

of a midnight sublime

a twelvish revealing

subliminal rhyme

the subconscious swain

herein patronized

are but minions of love

merely categorized

as apparitions of passion

attempt to librate

between the heart and soul

of this poet’s mandate

Idyls

somber they are not

that wake the night to life

a studded mausoleum

a firmament of strife

riant azure diamonds

the tiara of the universe

scattered charismatic dots

inspiring poets’ verse

hypnotizing proselytizing

enzymes of the cosmos

transitive saccharin light

assailing Christian ghettos

exciting and emancipating

the sojourns lubricity

diastole of life

in microcosmic complicity

protagonist of freedom

the idol of the avians

exordium to trees

the sacred breath of eons

the candle snuffing fire fanning

heavenly locomotion

controlling the wanderers psyche

filling the sails of the ocean

though diminutive they be

the base of wild society

complex chains of life are formed

at their impropriety

soft fur warm and shuddering fear

they huddle in the night

avoiding relentless invaders

diabolically erudite

extirpators continue screaming

hunger with every breath

funerals are a way of life

and surrender the song of death

a lantern for the haunted ones

that frequent night’s domain

shadow shaper of the sinister side

of time’s phrenetic pain

silken comatose streams of hope

to illume the nervous road

fluorescent ambiguity

of which mendicant minds erode

enemy ogre of fearful mice

and joy of lovers’ dreams

photophilous creatures cling

to each endearing beam

the tax collector ruler god

airborne philosopher king

plummets down immaculate

as death’s corrosive sting

eyed in infrared to spot

the slight fugacious error

whose victory yell straight out of hell

fills gentle souls with terror

pridefully preening his plumage with passion

his heart is entirely vain

but when the light is right in the kingdom of night

no one disputes his reign

this sylvan sage feigning wisdom

perched on his gnarled throne

winger master of metaphysics

mumbling idyls all alone

a prophetic eulogist divinely defiant

questions intruders at nightfall

from his honor’s bench aloft in an oak

comes a query of requital

deceptively docile with a violent heart

he’s the right handed sayer of death

mesmerizing his prey with weird epigrams

he talons them sucking out life’s breath

a squeal of terror snapping of twigs

a grunt of satisfaction

a short silent interlude

followed by muted mastication

a rumble of hooves and howls of excitement

and antlers clatter the trees

an earth shaking thud and clacking teeth

a surrendering grandiloquent wheeze

the essence of life an impending disaster

a bucolic bewitchery

as the harridan earth swallows the blood

of her harlequin menagerie

to laugh out the screaming wind

to praise this present pain

to categorize the end

to epitomize the rain

to sanctify the lowborn

to orchestrate existence

to reanimate the forlorn

to emblazon human resistance

insatiable hope scales the heights

to see the eagle eye to eye

and tries through lie racked desolate nights

to sing the wings in words and fly

a feline executioner

bedecked with slaughter’s spoils

fears clangor in her clicking claws

entranced in hunting’s toils

the sorceress sleuth’s sedulous eye

on the trail of homicide

sanguinary sinew splendid

tensed fibrous thanatoid

exquisite in form allegoric in mien

nature’s felonious ferocity

a luminous ladyship stalks all alone

a pastoral Mephistopheles

magnanimous port of call

in the avians’ lusty main

this unsung arboretum

breathes the sun and the wind and the rain

this fiery verdant nucleus

of the woodlands’ natural cell

imprisoned morose in the mud

an ironic primordial spell

as the wars and the wounded below

exalt the imperative death cry

in inanimate limbo immure impotence

he can only watch them die

o holes of ironclad hollowness

so destitute of fire

o flowerless closets of the night

devoid of life’s desire

o sunless secret folds of earth’s flesh

mantled melanic membrane

no solar ethos finds its way

nor evanescent lunar stain

into your passionless echoing belly

your nethermost necropolis

and your delirious deglutition of light

cannot unseal night’s kiss

what petulant feet have trampled on

your ruguos royal skin

what pagan blood has splashed you then

as your callous wears so thing

calumnious war fires scourge your flesh

and circumcise your dreams

effusive human egotists

efface your holy schemes

i disdain alas to see the day

when you’re reduced to scoria

as human harlots lick their wounds

baying fearful gloria

o the coldness of your purity

your naiveté on the stones

cleansing the earth and quenching thirst

floating wooden bones

your capillaries will swell and bulge

to the arteries of earth

then choke and stall within their own

polluted sclerous girth

then you’ll reach uncertain swamps

and stagnate in the mud

while poisons fill your impure heart

and putrefy your blood

receptive saline pool

of all earth’s tears and pain

vault of unknown monsters

and treasures as yet unstained

unwilling sponge of man

and his morbific monuments

humanity’s stolen cup

conceit’s inveterate sacrament

intravenously refuse fed

in vicious autolatry

future waves will break regret

and salt new poetry

from fitful sleep a postulant stirred

having heard a maudlin cry

to gore his ego on the horns

of nature gone awry

there must be another way

is all the idyls say

to find the metamorphic hope

leap off the cliff of human doom

and pray your fledgling spirit's wings

catch the winds outside this tomb

Lost Baby Lost

lost in empty overtures

of over anxious music

banging beat up

black fire verse

stagnant hwyl

subservient fool

braced with swill

the crimson quill

defeats the truth and clash

and soon the verse

becomes the curse

and drowns the right

inside the night

and words the lines with death

death cannot die

the night at last

soft soft soft

but o o o

so dark

lost in questions

dismembering lies

structured sighs

trusted skills

in numbered overkills

between the curse

and the verse

the night of pain

there is no buzz

because

something something something

is still unknown

the ghost of song

has not numbered himself

in the heckling heresy

the broken joking

fluke of fear

dance a tearful ball

and recall

death for fun

lost

unable to detach from fear

those dots of light

cannot inflame the night

but only singe the unaware

with self destructive

human care

hearing

of verses rotting

and generals marching

in lines

waiting to play

pain’s music

one more time

and when the final

dirge is played

and all the notes

devour the scale

can you drink the human fear?

is music such a magic tear?

lost

no styptic symphony

to block the bloody tides

of human red reality

melting minds

and shrunken souls

can only seek insanity

a razor pen

to slash the paper wrists

to worthless dust

and fading ink

mumbling the stink

of insoluble distress

unable to find

dispassionate dirt

inactive discontent

contagious apathy

must slay

the Christ

Cemetery

collective rustles drift the wind, and dot the earth with ghosts

wisps of shadows sliding by, like flames upon the snow

caressing come the taunting words, to tease my wary ears

the epitaph that you perceive is: who has been deceived?

these stones were chiseled in deceit, and planted in derision

and grace the sexless mounds of dirt, with dreams of preterition

designating every tomb: what do you believe?

crossfire… voices echo stone to stone

soteriologistic verse, ornate in hemistich

my mind’s pansophic leaps, then bows to sacrilege

cursing tears and wasted years in pompous parody

vomiting the poison forth until the muscles tear

the pain leaps out and paints with blood: what do you believe?

extracting from my dismal path, every ray of hope

I’ve spilled my blood and sympathy into a foreign river

and sought to open hallowed halls with keys that have no doors

the way is turning sharply now: what do you believe?

crossfire… voices split this layered time

the years dry up and fall like scales, as hammers crash on nails

a king is laid to rest in shame, looking somewhat like a lamb

an emperor seals his dungeoned fate, and washes off the doom

a stone rolls back, the earth gives up a body she had claimed

a specter turns and says to me: what is to believe?

South Side Winter Love Song

at the top of the world

on the edge of a glacier

a she wolf stirred

from a half frozen sleep

shook off her stiffness

crawled out in the night

climbed through the flames

of the burning sky

to the point of an ice cube hill

and cried out

mourning her mate off to war

a blood song

and in that second

penetrated by that music

i was born

opposing

outraged

out crying her howls

heart to heart

verse to verse

a poet was born

a swordless warrior

a paper dream

a life that hangs on words

by the neck until dead

he was standing at the gate again

some kind of retarded saint

some kind of politician

some kind of loser

talking to some local urchins

making promises he couldn’t keep

we mocked and teased and joked at first

and then

his pity became abrasive to our pain

it wasn’t so damn funny

big Jack and George picked him up by the shirt

threw him out into the street on the fly

he bounced once

slid a ways

and lay there crumpled and grimacing

then he got up and smiled

took off his torn and blood stained shirt

and threw it over the crowd

and Bunyan scraped his face off

on some forgotten prison wall

in the open sore

the iron clad boil

the quicksand factory

like harnessed worms we squirm

bleakly incidental

dowsing in our allotted dirt piles for hope

bawdy black bulbs excrete fouled light

a soaring jinni ossifies our brains

anesthetizes each closet of our intellect

it is a worm ritual

dead to dreams

choking the melody

smothering the words

the industrial liturgy

the iron priest

the rusting mass

constrain us

in the reeking can

cigarette butts and urine

we each go dull

sullenly

to our secret little chores

old leather faces

elbows out of joint

too many hammers

punch our face out to lunch

too many damn hammers

sadism or joy of human heart

communicate misery ‘til death do your part

punish misery with debauchery

Rimbaud lost at sea confused idolatry

raise the sainted serpent head in tears and rain

corpse clanging night banging ice movers

split the miry pavement

vomiting black slush

the city’s filthy shroud

into the limbo crowd

at Rosie’s and the Connection Bar

at Captain’s and Wild Bill’s

fill the sacramental glass

now it’s time for mass

toast with grapeless vintage words

the holy jukebox God

sing the troubled hymns of verse

pacify the bod

the winos come in to shine your shoes for a drink

human flies careen blindly encounter to encounter

elusive love

destitute desire

falling down drunk fingernails on asphalt

blood to street, salt to salt

we bury our face in the snow

the lights and sounds

of streets of pain

keep spinning through my head

blasting out what sanity

is not already dead

my heart lies fading dying

‘neath my nightstick logic’s nightmare

as ice cubes crash against the glass

of tears that I won’t wear

sacrificial pain

unmelted by the rain

eternally fired guilt

sacramental fear

burning in each tear

a myriad diamond death

we have seen the light

we have seen the star

what the hell’s the dream

another human scar

blood blood

wine wine

stir a little quicker

and we might bend time

back laying heaven gazing

asphalt crawling

dues paying

words and words and words of rhyme

relentlessly spitting cobra verse

let dreams and death and dust entwine

finally choking the holy rhythm

we have seen the great war

we have fallen in battle

we have seen the great deception

we have become frozen

weep for our children

they have scarred the night

they become confusion

we have seen the sun

we have blistered our eyes

we have missed the great division

that split their hearts

weep for our children

they have chilled the spirit

in the fire of delusion

free spirit

fired in the times

pain glazed heart

as the picture’s painted

advertised and sold

let yourself drink

all of life’s stink

‘til your heart is choking

the eulogist has lied

no spirit ever

was allowed to fly that high

child they said you were free

we knew you never could be

‘til the breath in your body

had melted the gates

of the ice palace prison you made

you bought the magazine dreams

you sold the packaged prayer

for your free love came pain

a carefully purchased white Christmas

did you know

in the shining crystal

are the facets of a king

the shine of sweat

the forearm drips

down to the tip

of his taskmaster’s whip

we cried

each time your flesh was marked

it took such a long time

for your heart to crack

we all had such great things to say

as we boldly spit back at each day

we did not sleep

we passed out

we did not wake up

we screamed out

sleep became the nightmare

the daylight struck back

much harder than we expected

he didn’t look the same

they combed his hair back

it snowed when we buried him

whitened up the sky a little

I spent that whole day in the snow

stayed awake for two days afterward

still can’t understand why he’s dead

o God can’t you stand him up

bring him back for a little while longer

the world loses hope each day

when people like him pass away

there were no dirges, his friends and lovers all cried

statues with rain on their faces

I stood in the snow, one of them lied

and still hides in strange little places

mourning without warning

death without disgrace

destruction without desire

ash without fire

love without life

contentment without boredom

wisdom without age

snow without cold

lies without guilt

face without eyes

human faces form the acreage of my farm

human tears spot the dust of my fields

human hearts pump my irrigation ditches full

human joys light the emerald leaves of my crops

human love tends my row with care

human desire contaminates my harvest

human greed empties my granaries

human hate is my drought

my parasite

my endless night

in the swish of her sequins

a song of desire

new melodies

upon new instruments

the perfume of her breath

the taste of a kiss

a feast of ice

a famine of fire

though we turn from her she is with us

her dream is us

though she turns from us we are with her

our dream is her

change yourself become us

while we hold your dream

change us let us become you

while you hold our dream

can we be in you without being you

keep us together yet apart

can you be in us without being us

keep us apart yet together

you live in the street

the street lives in you

you come from man

and he comes from you

in the city bars

and south side scars

i see your face

in the black ice

that coats the sterile asphalt

i see your face

in the open sore factory

that leaves me dull heartsick

i see your face

in the dead lake shore

the dry burning wind

i see your face

in this fruitless winter

this springless death

i love you for your face

i thought i was alive

then my reflection lit your eyes

i thought i outran life

then your touch gave me joy

i thought i knew peace

then your smile spoke of love

i thought i knew love

then your tears wet my hope

i thought i knew pain

then we could not touch

i though i knew loneliness

then we could not speak

I thought I knew death

then I could not love you

double vision

is life’s astigmatism

double love will split the heart

and split every dream to double pain

bifold brain

double life

death and life, pain and joy

it is all bigamy

we pay the double price

for singular vice

twos of reaction

divide satisfaction

split cleanly

jumping cliff to cliff

over a bottomless chasm

love or hate, good or evil

alternating current

dancing between two poles

over oblivion

double up the mind

insanity

double up the heart

catastrophe

every speck of hope

casts a shadow of failure

o to choose in ones

staggering

under the weight of it all

pockets dripping

with stinking new money

flashing

department store diamonds

sharply split

in suburban symmetry

suckling

on orange juice cocktails

suppressing

polite little giggles

assuming

carefully purchased roles

of dignified authorities on anything impressive

in affluent pleasure

they set to their dinner

discussing world famine

and the Super Bowl winner

and finally quaintly tipsy

they lapse into dirty jokes

flaunting platinum card snobbery

at waitresses who just don’t care

and rolling on home

in a Cadillac express

reaching their dormant bedroom

they reluctantly undress

leaving their hearts in their pockets

and staring blankly

go to bed

need does not cause greed

need is the harlot’s orphan

the bastard son of greed

that cries out why

greed is the unholy stud

that seeds all need

the selling of hope for lust

the lash that splits free flesh

the spike that pierces promises

the mouth that speaks heil Hitler

that seeks the blood of Zion

that chews filet of Jew

the Caesar that carves the forehead

that sells freedom for peace

where have you hid your treasures

in what play is your part

where did you put your dreams

where have you left your heart

have you put away your spoils

where they cannot be burned

where robbers cannot plunder in

lest your tables be upturned

is there no ending

to your backbreaking start

is there no bank to hold

your gold bleeding heart

have you put your trust in things

does it make your blood run cold

when you realize that diamond rings

with you cannot grow old

do you lay awake in darkness

lest a thief in the night

take away your youth and strength

and steal your heart’s delight

is there no ending

to your backbreaking chore

what will you do

when they batter down your door

you know the things you care about

will become your heart one day

and the heavier your loot

the less your chance to fly away

better fix your eyes on heaven

if the stars start falling through

lest when you lock away your gold

you lock yourself in too

there may not be an ending

to your backbreaking drive

you may slave forever

and never be alive

could be

this pain flecked word man’s tears

that spit against the glass

in this gray March month

and grace this sleety verse

in frozen years of guilt

and human love crucified on parchment

could be

the clouds of frostbite

burning deep into my horizons

that mercifully kill the thaw of sun

in this half dead spring

as guilt and God and I and words

in the uneasy peace of poetry

sing praise in a temple of paper

cry hymns of human anything

could be

I run like the wind driven snow

in this blizzard of misery

from whatever dawning dream I might be

could be

but I can never fall into step with myself

I am not sure which tread to match

as I walk this frozen sidewalk

in the metre of some misbegotten love song

in the hurt I know I am a stranger here

but the tears make it clear I belong here

there is a lightening love

that flashes in this storm of self

and splits me dead and living in two

I ache for it

to sanctify my dreams

Letter To An Old Friend

old friend I knew you’d ask me why

I let my fervor die

it seems to you I’ve let God down

and gone to live a lie

as man and friend you have the right

to ask it now of me

so in these lines I word with care

the God I used to see

I do not say that God’s become

this kind of God for you

but if all you touch is shine and fire

perhaps you know him too

I used to have a trophy case

a temple in the sun

a church with fearless leaders

full of babies just begun

it was there I kept my shiny God’s

pressed tight against my heart

it was there I shed my tears of joy

it was there I had my start

one by one those leaping preachers

formed my Gods for me

calling each one Jesus

proving each one set me free

salvation was the first one’s name

though sometimes called born again

he gave me the desperate gratitude

known only by those who sin great sin

I worshiped him from afar

in my guilty holy place

there was no way to touch him

and I could not see his face

so I kept him shiny as best I could

and in my heart secure

an idol for my guilt to love

an idol for my fear

charismata was the second one’s name

also known as fire from heaven

or holy spirit baptism

or just plain spiritual leaven

he seized me with what seemed to be

a power beyond this world

and into unknown words and feelings

my childish heart was hurled

soon enough I lifted him up

to a place where I could praise

the shine of privileged vanity

that idol all ablaze

the bible, good sound teaching

or maybe the inspired word

at any rate, the lawyer

was the God that came up third

he always had an answer

a way to plead his case

on either side of the argument

he’d put you in your place

with arguments and ideas

playing history fast and loose

the idol of the circle

the judge, the gleaming noose

hiding in the safety shadow

cast by number three

a pleasant pretty little God

they call prosperity

be living right, and giving right,

bring your cash to his door

be spirit filled, properly grateful

and call on number four

believe he’ll do the things you want

and he’ll multiply your money

just never doubt, and he won’t turn mean

this idol’s a little honey

and now we come to number five

if the first four aren’t enough

this one’s known as many mansions

he’s for those who have it rough

he’s coming back riding the clouds

with promises to keep

but if you want to catch this guy

you better not go to sleep

he gives the rewards for living right

so if you want your share

don’t let this idol catch you

spending time on human care

with these first five there’s shine enough

to help your soul survive

but big number six makes you spiritually tough

and keeps the shine alive

this God is known by many names

they change from day to day

spiritual maturity, right with God,

a closer walk, the way,

in the spirit, divine revelation,

prophecy; you decide;

myself I kind of liked word of knowledge

but it’s all just elitism feeding pride

but it’s number seven that gets you to heaven

and puts the others to shame

he keeps your eyes fixed on the previous six

and faith is his favorite name

and he can make you feel safe

like you’re walking in light

and you can worship him deep

in the hideous night

but as the shine and burn of all seven

quicken you like fire

there’ll be no caress, no beating heart,

no flesh, and no desire

so old friend I took my Gods

down from their special shelf

and buried them in a potters’ field

far outside myself

and I’ve never suffered any loss

nor mourned their sanctity

because I gave them all the toss

to find humanity

the empty hole inside me

just needs to understand

the kingdom you call Jesus

has gotten out of hand

Dancing Children Disappear

every sorcerer’s apprentice

stops to look for nothing

and finds the very thing he seeks

only to make it something

O Carlos, your arms are overladen!

every pope and preacher

pauses at a whisper

and turns the voice of nothing

into useless thunder

O Moses, your back is overburdened!

every dilettante philosopher

cannot decline to dance

nothing is no wallflower

but nothing is not chance

O Frederick, your heavy thoughts have broken your neck!

one beginning, one single flow

one raging river, nowhere to go

one love, one blood, one single flood

one dream, one idea, nowhere to grow

born of nothing, dimension and frame

out of nothing, more of the same

one beginning, one surge, one mind

one unrestrained feeling, one heart, one end

drops in a flood, thoughts in a thought

inherit the flow, inhabit the stream

from nothing to nothing, swept away in a dream

one beginning, one end, one nothing

half naked trees shivering

in a cold relentless autumn rain

love is the cornerstone, not the foundation

love will always rest on frozen ground

in a cold autumn rain

inside the highest love,

one beginning, one end, one nothing

drink from the half frozen sink hole

muddy chilling water

let the arctic flow divide and cut

let the river flow

gnawing block by block through delusion

the frozen ground may split at any time

only the cold is not an illusion

one beginning, one end, one nothing

love is born in the dead of winter

not in the heat of the moment

our mother is ice

our father is emptiness

we are only sparks and shards

of that pristine collision

one beginning, one end, one nothing

hope is the product of error

if we have hope

we have believed a lie

chance is the product of hope

if we are abandoned to chance

we have believed a lie

power comes from abandonment to chance with hope

if we have gained manipulative power

we have believed a lie

power is everything

everything is absolute nothing, is one, is desolation

we have believed a lie

individual cannot be

individual is the true destiny

which is the lie?

individual is hidden (this is the truth)

the truth is not hidden

but individual is hidden

one beginning, one end, one nothing

is only individual, only hidden

hidden by love

love is the veil

neither lie, nor truth

love is the veil

behind love is individual

one beginning, one end, one nothing

only individual

absolute nothing is desolation

everything is desolation

intellect is desolation

reason in search of itself

can only find nothing

nothing can only bring forth reason

the power of reason comes from nothing

the power of nothing is reason

reason and nothing contend

nothing cannot destroy reason

it brings forth reason inevitably

reason cannot destroy nothing (it is born of nothing)

the peace between reason and nothing

is self amazement, is self containment

is love, is individual

individual is because of the container - love

love is because of the contained - reason and nothing

individual is peace

love is neither truth nor lie

love is the container

love is the veil, love is flesh

the flesh is the love

the love is the peace

of one beginning, one end, one nothing, individual

the flesh is neither truth nor lie

it brings the feast to us

the feast of individual

the feast is meant to fill us

give us a taste of peace

a peace that brings forth flesh

there are no mysteries only lies

comprehension eludes us because we try

dancing children disappear

over the horizon of our fear

there are no answers we can see

we make ourselves questions trying to be

dancing children disappear

out of sight in bewildered tears

there is no new law we can keep

what we really are is fast asleep

dancing children disappear

outside the dream that we hold dear

in the haunted forest the wind will rage

and blow our memory off the page

dancing children disappear

into the night that we bring near

we strain toward the whisper beyond the veil

leaving behind the holy grail

dancing children disappear

into the words we wait to hear

once contained in love, and free

turned out by what we cannot see

dancing children disappear

contorted in their parents’ fear

when the nothing meets its reason

just when peace has come in season

dancing children disappear

clawing to get out of here

dancing children disappear

we all begin contained in love

dancing children disappear

the love is flesh not yet our own

dancing children disappear

out of nothing and reason we must clothe ourselves

dancing children disappear

we cannot bring the two to rest

dancing children disappear

our whole world prefers a mystery

dancing children disappear

we never give birth to ourselves

dancing children disappear

we never contain what we are

dancing children disappear

we never make hand in place of hand

dancing children disappear

we never form the flesh

dancing children disappear

we never make the marriage

dancing children disappear

dancing

dancing children disappear

disappear

I Close My Eyes

I close my eyes

at the end of the day

hoping to dream

because I’m wasting away

I close my eyes

because I know in the night

there’s a world where I’m free

and I win every fight

but it’s all just a dream

less than a tear

and I know it’s not real

just a picture of fear

I close my eyes

and the wine turns to blood

the lightening bolts flash

on the mountain of God

I close my eyes

and a brother loves me

there’s a father who cares

and a God I can see

but it’s all just a dream

just ghosts on the wind

I keep waiting for more

or for something to end

I close my eyes

and I don’t care for dreams

because they’ll never come true

nothing is what it seems

we hope and we dream

for a new life that’s good

but all we can have

is the one that we could

and all we can find

at the end of the dream

is what we left behind

when we closed our eyes

I close my eyes

and wait ‘til I’m through

because the dream I can’t dream

is the one that comes true

The Insinuation

I hated him because he had nothing to give

and you were determined to give us to him

just like you always did with everyone else

but there was no return, with him it all flowed just one way

I couldn’t say no, it would have ruined what you were

but in the end, it just bled you dry

you poured us back into the blackness of his twisted world

when I was empty, you just laid down and died

you just knew one way to live, and so did I

but some people just can’t see themselves through others’ eyes

and no amount of love can ever set them free

they just suck it all up and run away

the worst ones are the ones who hide in families

who justify the dirty secrets out of shame

like they are caring for a child with a disease

as far as I’m concerned they’re all accessories

in the end you still thought I could rescue you away

but some peoples’ demons are just too big for us

and they stand like gawking vultures on a kill

to watch love stagger to its end so they can feed

today the moon at dawn was split right in two

because they just tore everything apart

there just wasn’t any point in trying to talk to him

he’s just determined to eat your children too

and without you here I have no chance at all

the self indulgent insults of their disbelief

can only land on me like broken glass

and cut what heart is left into its final shreds

so just say goodbye, there’s nothing left of me

in the end I just became you

and they took everything I had and threw it all away

so they could feel less guilty for a day

The Twelfth Day

(August 12^th 2009)

twelve dog boy days of thick heat and alternating rain

mosquitoes, sweat, and the smell of the dog on the couch

since the uninterrupted unprecedented shower of love gifts

began in her goodbye and hello to life

on this green blue spinning poem in time

approaching holidays would send her spinning

into electric shivers of anticipation

to touch her then was to joy shock your heart

and even now in my tired sickness of devastation

my inconsolable heart anticipates

to lay in her arms was longer than eternity

and shorter and more perfect than a breath

to look in her eyes was simply love

utterly life, absolutely joy

sheer unbounded wonderfully human genius

we have not gone in any way away

for it was always that our love was coming home

to celebrate together that awestruck fallen star of humanity

we lay by the fire and watch the return of human life

this homecoming…

this full and twelfth day of our Christmas

Read My Mind

if I had my way

I wish that you could read my mind

and know every single thought I think

‘cause I’ll tell you what you’d find...

me thinking my life with you

me learning my life from your

me living because of you

me waiting to be with you

just me dying to live with you

I wish our hearts could beat so close

that they’d just become the same

so everything I felt about you

could be felt the same inside you…

me loving my life with you

me living my love with you

me loving because of you

me aching to be with you

just me dying to love with you

I Fear No Evil

people say it all time

stay safe from harm

take care of your life

don’t just head into a storm

don’t blame yourself for yesterday

just let your life be good

let your own kindness keep you safe

be everything you could

but when I walk through the valley

of the shadow of death

there ain’t no devil clawing at me

after my last breath

and I might stumble

but I never fall

as long as I can love you

I fear no evil

my life has been some hard work

that’s for sure

but it’s never been beyond

what you made of me could endure

you’re the good thing that I do

just for me alone

and that I get to love you

always takes me safely home

when I walk through the valley

of the shadow of death

I feel you move inside me

with every little breath

and there might be sorrow

but you are all my bliss

as long as I can love you

I fear no evil

walking through the valley

of the shadow of death

I found the kind of love

that’ll take away your breath

and there might be some dues to pay

but I’ll take that kiss…

as long as I can love you

I fear no evil

Spectacular Devastation

(For My Friend Troy)

“The cars hiss by my window like the waves down on the beach

I got this girl beside me but she’s out of reach”

(Jim Morrison)

Heart as big as this country

Heart just as brave and free

Heart that stood its ground with any man

Heart that was loyal and true

Heart that was joyous and fun loving

Heart that you wore on your sleeve

Heart that loved a family and friends

Heart that loved a son

Heart that loved this old man

Heart! Heart! Heart!

Spectacular devastation!

God knows I loved you Youngblood

God knows there’s a big new hole in my soul

God knows that everything is changed now

God knows it ‘ll never be the same

God knows we’ll go on without you

God knows you gave up too soon

God knows what we all are made of

God knows that your pain was too much

God knows that we all feel we failed you

God! God! God!

Spectacular devastation!

Wild is lurking in all of us

Wild still rips through our blood

Wild growls deeper in some of us

Wild is what remembers we’re free

Wild can never be owned just loved

Wild is the reason we love at all

Wild is why we fight to the death

Wild men can have the heart of a boy

Wild women can be ruthlessly coy

Wild! Wild! Wild!

Spectacular devastation!

“Windows started tremblin’ with a sonic boom, boom

A cold girl ‘ll kill you in a darkened room”

(Jim Morrison)

DogBoy / TinSoldier Publishing

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