Idle Idolation

Smash my dreams to the ground
And we’ll make a mosaic.
Harmony and Chaos-
alive in this wreck.
See the twins of jealousy
Asleep in their beds,
But see the golden idol-
How she wears my face.

Break this idol down
for I’ve built it up stronger.
Is my reason for living
Just to stay a bit longer?
The cold shoulder I feel
Freezes my eyes shut;
And the idol, she laughs
as she falls to the floor.

Say goodnight to this,
Oh, my image!
I’ve walked a lonely mile,
just to give an adage.
Exit the perfection,
and enter cold reality.
For though I am dark,
I may yet be lovely.

{CK}

Inner Fire.

If my words had power to destroy you
I would silence myself forever.
I swallow this fire within myself,
And hope to not catch flame.
Eternal love would be premature,
But why is the time never right?
Sing a song of mellow tone
And hear the birds sing it back.

So peaceful is this quiet repose,
I feel sorry to end it so soon–
But a raging fire burns in my soul,
And demands that I serve its will.
Will you follow this race that I run,
Or do I run alone to the bitter end?
Pass the baton with smiles and fanfare,
My emotions will have no real lack.

{CK}

Lead-heart Ironhand

See my hands of iron
and heart of lead.
See these chains about
As I dance with the dead.
In my iron kingdom
I can’t be touched-
No feelings, whimsome,
My heart, complex.

These ribs of steel
(Refuse to bend).
I can’t be opened
(Sealed off in the end).

Sick and betrayed
(by my heart of lead)
Lost and betrayed
(Living for another day)
Tired and betrayed
(by my heart of lead)
Fully betrayed
(I’m living for another day).

One is alone
But two is in love.
Three is a war
Fought by the doves.
Four is a crowd
Yet five is a mob.
Six is a man
Under an ancient sun.

Fight this old war
and look to the clouds,
Scan the stars-
expect to be wowed.
We do not love
Such a humble truth.
Simplicity,
is death to our pride.
(or that is how it seems)

Such collision
Bringing destruction.
Life impossible
From such violence.

{CK}

Serpents in the Closet.

To commiserate with serpents,
Fling yourself to the dust.
Go climb up yonder tree
To gossip with the swallows.
If you want to complain to God,
Lock yourself in the closet.

All creation wants to be heard,
But nothing wants to listen.
Sing a song or chant a curse,
And still there is no audience.
But beyond the sky’s reaches
Remains a King with ready ear.

As blood hits the dusty floor,
This single event is marked.
A brokenhearted soul cries–
Permanent solution to silence.
Razorblades are not your friend,
The peace they offer is false.

A faint echo in the silence
Is never left unheard.
The only question at the end
Is who it was that listened.
And so off we go around again,
until we find our true hope.

{CK}

As I Fall Slain

Thirty seconds is all it takes.
A blow to the sternum by spear,
A gash of a serpentine blade–
I stand between life and death.

Has my life been squandered?
It seemed only an hour wasted,
Mere minutes weren’t worth worry–
All this before the blackout.

A golden door with silver handle.
Heaven’s gate stands open today,
A portal of peace for the just–
I am beginning to feel lighter.

When I hit the earth I am slain.
My soul passes between realms,
I traverse the immortal plain–
Then my spirit finds its home.

{CK}

Cloak and Dagger.

A dagger is most comfortable
when hidden in the dark.
Cloaks are deft shields
For those of ill intent.
A cop has a flashlight
to scare away the knives–
But not everything hidden
Is revealed by man’s fight.

For I tread a fine line
Between Heaven and Hell–
Casting a long shadow
Between here and eternity.
Only bridge across the gap,
is a coated wooden plank
covered in a dead man’s blood
and filled with iron nails.

Millions stand aloft in a valley
that is called “threshing sledge”.
Stroll along this rolling sphere,
and see the souls about to die.
I see an arrow drunk with blood,
And a great harlot that is the same.
Though Justice is nailed to a pillar,
She will be freed upon that day.

So much, then, for your scheming,
All Evil will be put to shame.
All things hidden will be revealed–
cloaks torn and knives dismembered.
The arrow conquers the harlot
as one City replaces the other.
And so the storybook will fold,
as the page turns to tell another.

{CK}

Rain and Dust.

Dust drifiting by on a once fertile plain.  Burning letters scream “Help me!” at an unwavering sky.  The clouds open to swallow the smoke, as the silent prayer reaches heaven.  A desperate figure stares at the ocean of air above his head, awaiting for some unknown relief. 

Messenger.

‘Tis greuling trials
That mark men’s souls.
Imported words
Don’t carry the weight
Of a full ton of Brick.

Learn by experience
to know your roles.
Simple sentence
With a little fire
May yet ignite a wick.

Strain against chains
and wrought iron poles
A Champion
With a victory
Will cure the sick.

Isolation leaves us cold.
Our limits reached,
Our spirits breached,
We say “To Hell with the World.”

Flee then the coming wrath.
Sit yourself in the dust
With such somber face
And grieve with the last.

Stay awak, stay awake–
Sit with me and bleed!
Feel a burden
to free your soul.
Keep running, keep running–
or give up your ground!
Live your life
Or accept the masque.

{CK}

Instinct, the Tyrant

We are freedom fighting
for all the wrong reasons.
We cry “death to tyrants!”
And live by our instinct.

“Why do men desire flight?”
A friend once asked of me.
A cynical response
was all I could muster–

“We strive for what we want,
However unnatural…
Hence our different vices,
From drink to sexual.”

“Craving is natural!”
my friend replied to me-
“Surely do we fulfill;
for we are animal.”

So we parted our ways
with a doff of our caps.
I, thinking man evil,
and he the opposite.

Is man a mere machine,
driven by his instinct-
Or just pass over evil
With a smile and a wink?

So I says to myself,
“Can I choose to murder
but never to stay pure?
That way… it sounds absurd.”

“If I can choose the right,
I can reject the wrong-
Though I fight with myself
by the hammer and tongs.”

Man is no animal
– considering morals.
Instinct, though powerful,
Is not unrelenting.

Dictators are usurped/
Tyrants have comeuppance.
So too, some day, instinct
Will offer death a dance.

{CK}

Fire Away.

Such a death tone
played at half-time.
A funeral dirge
Rings dully in my ears.

No truer a victim
Than the stiff-in-the-box
A dark starry night
Conceals a man’s blood.

The earth cries out,
“A murderer is loose!
Find me this madman,
and so ease my suffering!”

Outrage is the response-
For even dulled humans
Feel the earth’s fury…
A man will die by dawn.

Blood-thirsty hunters
With wills of iron.
A peaceful crowd
has now become a mob.

For fear and fury–
We are slaves of temper.
And so two wrongs
Will yet make a right.

Siezed about the neck,
who cares if he’s guilty?
The Earth’s thirst of blood
Will never be satisfied.

So two innocents pass
like ships in the night.
If equal blood is shed,
I see we care not whose.

So is a murder repaid
and then called justice.
It seems the only difference
Is political correctness.

{CK}