Permanent Words

PERMANENT WORDS

The poems came-in hard and fast

Asking the questions that life itself asks

The poems came a-fluttering down upon your mind

They try to get your attention amidst whatever life you find

                                ***

And up from nowhere comes your earthly responses

As you think you have the answers 

Time seemingly stands-still before you later find

Your answers – are-in-fact a bind

                                ***

Binding you to this earthly domain

You don’t know if you will ever find answers again

As the answers have come and gone

With no peace permanent – ‘til the eternal dawn

                                ***

When you are drawn by The Father

And if you stop to see the altar

You will find The Words He speaks

Far greater – by far – (divinely unique!)

                                ***

They are Words with spirit and life replete

No poem can ever venture to repeat

No good words can surpass

The Words of heaven sent First Class

Good/bad poem

GOOD/BAD POEM

This isn’t one of my best

But I digress

Because first –

write the poem

Before the

internal jurist speaks

              …

After all

it may turn out all right

But do I feel it ‘coming along’

Or do I sense a failure?

              …

Well –

we are only half way there

So why conclude?

 – do not fear

All will be resolved in

the person’s ear

               …

It won’t be Shakespeare

It won’t be King Lear

What doth appear?

Why – simply – “There you go”

As I finish here…

Ignoring…

IGNORING…

Even If I had gone away

You might still hear me say

Words accumulated in this way:

That is – i.e. – in poetic form

Saying things that are not the norm

Spiritual thoughts – to these I warm

But you’re mind is on other things

I may say something spiritual and a bell rings

As your mind thinks of something memory brings

Someone spoke to you once in a biblical way

You didn’t like it – you’d nothing to say

You lived to ignore it another day

There is a time coming

(A day of reckoning – still to come)

“I bled for you”

Said the Only Begotten Son

blogosphere

Blogosphere

Blogosphere from ear to ear

All that goes on in your head

Treading out your corn

Was it you that said…?

                …

Blogs sent-out-there

Into the sphere

Not always what

They at first might appear

                …

Blogs written from the heart

Your abundance in advance

For all ‘posters’ to realize

As you make your song and dance

                …

Words one day will cease

Your words – my words gone

Your world – my world

What in the world’s going on?

                 …

Some pay heed to what I write

Others fail to find my word display

Others mis-interpret what is ‘wrote’

Some listen – but turn away

                 …

Some ‘like’ to my surprise

I don’t get it – as they are of a different ilk

They think I mean what they hold to

But sow’s ear don’t make purse of silk

                 …

You see ‘comprende’ ain’t so easily found

As the spiritual is spiritually discerned

So words mean different things

Spiritual things can be wrongly learned

                 …

Anyway just thought I’d say

I’m still treading out my corn

I know you are too

But I hope you become –

                 …

Second time born

Idols (?)

IDOLS (?)

They genuflect before their idols

No idols do they see

Only girl-power or man-power

To which they bow the knee

                          …

And now what shall you say?

You don’t agree in any way?

You – love – them

Those famous fancies flaunting

Futile fantasies

                          …

Love? The line has been crossed

Between goodwill – and cultish attachment

They – have you – emotionally

Just as they used to scream and shout

Beginning with Frank or was it Bill?

Followed by the Fab Four no doubt

                          …

Such scenes we did perceive

As females fainted and became undone

And wobbly

All weak at the knees and

Likewise – It seems – at the seams

                          …

We laughed – didn’t take it seriously

And some of it was pinch of salt

But the ‘worship-need’

Found expression in the wrong place

Set on the ‘object’ of the eyes

(Whilst emotions were in ‘outer space’)

                         …

Young men too – on the Imitation Train

Following their idols right around the bend 

                         …

For all that feeds the limited nature

Into the lower nature

Loving not the Creator –

but the creature

                         …

But now back-up a bit

And take a long-studied look

See this world like a writhing can of worms

And ask yourself

What will change the horror of

Desperation-arms and hands

Reaching and clutching at the roof?

                         …

No backbone – just jelly-fish views:

‘If it feels good – do it’

The cry that becomes the decree

                         …

The world is losing control

To a – greater – not lesser – degree

Unless you accept the control of you and me

By outside forces that dictate your dictionary

                        …

There are already many antichrists

On the planet

Slowly roping-you-in

Burying in deceit

Their rampant hearts of sin

                        …

And if you would be aware

As true awareness should be

You’d better stop and listen

To the gospel that comes free

                        …

There’s a solid rock to reach

A sure foundation like an oak

Of a solid tree

Dispelling any darkness that

Flourishes in you and me

                        …

I could not find a way

That wasn’t turmoil-ridden

Justifying all that was forbidden

Until the day idols were demolished

Heralding a different kind of living

                       …

I now stand free on solid soil

Subjective peace for inner turmoil

And though I must prepare

For stormy weather

I’m cuff-linked to His Word

In The Rock I find my tether

                     …

‘With Christ in the vessel

I can smile at the storm’

Despite the world’s rejection

Indifference – ridicule and scorn

                     …

“God’s Grace please leave me never!”

As I worship Jesus forever

Shall I write…?

Shall I write…?

Shall I write a poem

All couched in ancient language

In obsolete or ambiguous words?

                    …

Shall I speak in hushed tones

Of Sobriety – clothed in ‘proper’ drones

Like a sniff from the Parson’s nose

All self-righteous in a condescending pose?

                    …

Shall I write in the age-old fashion

With religious language – as I bow

Before the throne of King James

Nothing to do with the here and now?

                    …

And stuttering to a stop

Ask Shakespeare to step-up

And receive the remaining accolades

As surrounded by the king’s entourage

I am dismissed as the village idiot

“Give him the badge”

                    …

Upon my head I have the jester’s hat

Is ancient cronyism all we’ve got?

                    …

Instead I don’t give way unquestioningly

To the old-fashioned prose

But rather this is what I chose

                    …

I chose to sort the wheat from the chaff

For many a truth was spoken so long ago

In ancient expressions no longer on the go

                    …

And though

                    …

I may not get it at first glance

I will consider it and give it a chance

                    …

Because our world of ‘cool’ and present-day

Has gone astray

Baby is out with the bath water

And the world is in dismay

So – so – little wisdom it displays

As it shuts out –

The Ancient of days

I woke up one day

I woke up one day

I woke up one day and they were gone

The pop stars and rock stars and political bodies 

The styles of cars, and terminated oddities

                          …

I woke up one day after many wake-ups

And drew a line under the hoodies

And crudities – no longer in fashion

                          …

I observed how it all changed

Itemising the things that were no longer arranged

In that popular manner

They even use different grammar

                          …

I woke up another day and remembered the names:

The Presley’s and Lennon’s and Crosby’s and Connery’s

The Bolan’s and Cagney’s and names I’ve forgotten

                          …

I couldn’t see them in the present day

Their vapours had appeared and

Disappeared another way

                          …

I saw in their absence the crushing line of years

Years bumping up together –

At least – that’s how it appeared

                          …

I sneered –

I couldn’t bring them back except on celluloid

I couldn’t stop reminiscing – and concluding

Preparation is impossible to avoid

In light of the facts of corruptible flesh –

                          …

All singing and dancing their candle was lit –

If you think that’s all that matters –

You’re not getting it

                          …

But they represented earlier life – when energy

Aplenty was mis-spent in youth

Grabbing for straws we all together

Went at things – hell-for-leather

                          …

Time was wasted

But it’s hard to duck and dodge

It being so

For answers – we didn’t know where to go

                          …

As I was drifting into retro-reminiscing

Concluding there’s nothing new under the sun

I remembered it was all about having fun

                          …

But I woke up (as I was telling you a moment ago)

To find another name added to the roll call

At the Oscar Dinner, Show or Ball (?)

                          …

People – all those – we all know

Who represent passing time

There are times when I can be – feeling it so…

                         …

I woke up one day and found a mirror

I saw a man there – who was waiting his turn

I hadn’t realised he had grown old

And was supposed to feel it

I didn’t know – ‘cause I was never told

                          …

What am I supposed to do?

I can’t stop the train

Heading for the end of the line

The buffer stops and the buck stops here

Before The Creator – I must appear

                         …

Meantime back at the ranch or lunch

My mind wanders to a pier

A saying – batted about – yesteryear

‘Take a long walk – along a short pier’

                          …

This and similar quips come to mind

“Is he in?” We used to ask

“Who?” Was the scripted reply

“Mr. Norwood”

                          …

No one knew Mr. Norwood –

He had passed away

Looking in the mirror one day

To find he was ‘out of time’

(‘My sweet old fashioned baby…’)

                          …

I looked in a book one day

I found it again

Glancing through – romancing through

I saw faces long gone

Who wore those faces of youth

Just like mine

                          …

I compare the photos in collage

Fresh looking young man I was

Peering curiously at the world

                          …

As the quiet man in the background

I strolled passed everything

Observing – surprising – amounts of forms

“How’s the form?” Greeters would ask

                          …

Greeters long gone

Many and varied deaths they had

The ‘around the corner’ alcoholic

His name was John

                          …

He passed away

A friend of my brother’s

I didn’t know

I knew him one night in a bar – drunk or so

I was with a girl – she wanted to go

                          …

Deal out the memories like a pack of cards

Go on – put them out there – spread across the floor

The floor of your mind

And think to yourself – of all who have gone

They represent your journey – your encounters

With the strange – the normal –

And those above the norm

                          …

Wake up some day and realise it won’t be long

Before we join them beyond outer space

The end we must face

If I tell you the great sequel

You will think me – too strait-laced

                          …

Every generation must face these things

What do you bring to the table?

Your ideas are not enough

Because only enough is enough

                          …

Things – will – are – and – will still –

get rough

And if you don’t find answers that’s tough

                          …

Today I woke up and banged the keys

Today I woke up with a sneeze

Finishing off now – I must go…

                          …

Go home to that photo album

You possess

And have another look

That’s your family – friends –

And acquaintances that mark time for you

                          …

What age are you now?

There’s no need to say

You look around to answer but…

                          …

I’m on my way

Moved…

MOVED

He was moved once

Yea twice

But kept his emotions under wraps

He deflected their noticing looks

With a quip or two – producing doubts

They continued to discuss the matters at hand

After the brief acknowledgement (in civility given)

For not everyone knew the deceased as he did

The organisation got organised

Laying out it’s course of action

Man the boats, hands to the pump and plow

Get on with the business of why we are here

Slowly the many things to be done

Surfaced and swallowed all other considerations

At last the meeting ended

He went out and wept

Winds

WINDS

The big wind blows

You don’t know that wind

It’s never been here before

What do you know about wind?

It freezes to the bone

Up up and away in your

Beautiful idea of wind

As you reach to get the hat back

But it tumbles to it’s end

You – looking over the cliffside

As it floats down to it’s demise

                   …

Winds as winds go

You will not take time to pursue

You’re not a tornado chaser

But to escape one –

you will not reside

Rather ‘hit the road Jack’

before it abides

Now no wind is complete

Without the rain and hail

All of these are metaphors

That go beyond the pale

If you do not have an inkling

To hoist up your sail

                  …

Though in ‘riddles’ I speak

The next page is blown over

Now you can have a peek

Rambling in the windy air

I stumble to declare

Never man spake like the son of man

The Son of God – to declare:

He’s the One who created the wind

But you ask ‘is there anybody there?’

                   …

There’s another wind far superior

Mysterious to those who don’t know

Comforting – to blow away your turmoil

He will stay – and say what you need to hear

And you will know it – to be so

A ‘so be it’ amen – leaves your lips

                    …

Last but by no means least

It only remains to say

It blows where it will

Your number to display

Carrying you to a vision

Of an all-spiritual array

His life to offer – fresh and pure

                   …

For all your ills

at last…

In His wind –

you have found the cure

All door

ALL DOOR

This poem could become something

Coming up with something – as it does –

about a restaurant

But it’s only that ordinary place

That ‘hurry up and answer the phone’ place

Where I want to place an order

That cock-a-hoop waitress with the lounging voice

That won’t awake from sleep

Unless she gets a rise

That door-place where it seems all door

Smallnesses in tables and chairs

But largeness of door

Seemingly bigger cause it blows open and shut

And won’t close-shut of it’s own accord

When patrons enter and pay it no heed

It sticks ajar to play havoc with sinuses

With it’s draughty – icy – blast

Mingled with outside cigarette smoke

Of the filthy habit kind

Leaving it impossible to eat food with taste

A poem revisited

A POEM REVISTED

It’s that girl again

The one who moved in coffee shop circles

The one who tried to write a story

With her feet

And a new seat

At the coffee shop opposite –

Across the street

Whose head-story she would not repeat

As she journeyed in hopeful imagination

                        …

Maybe a needy person she would find

And buy them a coffee –

Perhaps an old lady

Fumbling for her money

Spectacles broken

Unable to differentiate

Between her coins

She would step up to fulfil her reason

For crossing the street for that other latte

She determined not to encounter

A nothingness scenario

                         …

After all – impulse had driven her here

To the pub with no beer

Silently she sat in another poem

Her thoughts drowned by the passing traffic

[search my post: other poem: ‘Another Coffee’ Sept. 22]

Thoughts unsettled

THOUGHTS UNSETTLED

Now as you might have seen

There’s not much changing in the scene

Paradoxically everything is in flux

                           …

Your thoughts may go from down and out

To what you might think is deluxe

But off they go again unsettled

in the extreme

                           …

As you look at this planet – reeling

You want to scream

You think this and you think that

You think maybe – tit for tat

                           …

But climate change doesn’t change a thing

When man’s behaviour is left or right-wing

                           …

It’s a mystery – even before the bye and bye

Earth and moon – sun and stars and sky

One of which will be dissolved

                           …

Our bodies too 

but there’s more than that – involved

                           …

In the fragility of time – the years clock-in

All because of corruption – all because of sin

                           …

Look unto the hills if you will

From whence comes your help?

                          …

Ask and I will tell you

This is the thought-settling truth

                          …

Christ The Lord is risen

His Presence – undeniable Proof

                          …

That He has left a guide book

(That should be no surprise)

Without it – the truth you will never realise