Holding Composition

The Unknown Righteous_Jerusalem Square of Remembrance

Resurrected bits and pieces resist the crumble,

while vices mumble in these halls, leaning

hard against these walls.

And though I’m home,

I feel alone,

listening for answers my heart can’t hold.

These scenes aren’t foreign,

but I am…

not fitting this skin I’m held in;

needing new form and parcel

for this breath of partial

blowing through my frame.

Reaching for fulfilled me,

tripping over empty;

vacant lots where impressions stayed.

Wanting Him to have His way, while

salted sores impose delay;

how can I rinse away these stains

from nature’s stone?

On my own, fighting in faith,

as demolitions swing their fates;

this foundation feels the quake

… something is lost.

But for the cause, I stay awake,

vigilant for watching’s sake; a

lighthouse beaming hopeful refuge

through these eyes.

Unwelcome spies casting shades,

by this prayer eclipses fade;

flailing forms dissipate as dawn comes nigh.

Structure abides for one more ride,

but I confess this space confines

and, with it, time defies me;

pinching corners in the sphere

of my timeless here.

I just want to be –

without then or there or them or he…

free of now’s dichotomy.

Newness in a soul’s rebirth,

dropped face down in yester’s dearth;

how the pressure closes in on will.

And still, I am the pillar rising high,

holding form and sowing life, while

all the holes beneath the worth

keep me tethered to sinking earth.

Untrustworthy

“It is better to give than to receive,”
so don’t judge my reprieve
Gifts come at a cost, labeled
-my loss-
The bait and switch, the okie-doke
The puff and pass that made me choke
I’ve tasted freedom laced in smiles…
abandoned judgment at their trials;
fled the fort to feast with these;
welcomed dawn in the arms of thieves
All that binds reveals a price
rolled out on the weighted dice
Cloaked in love, dressed with care,
toting hope inside charm’s flair
… none of which resided there
Gripping to the slippery hand
Drowning in foundation’s sand
Holding breath on wavering words
Chances flew, as itinerant birds,
high and with purpose…
‘til the crap hit the surface
The greatest of all, I’ve given so free
Donning these masks, it returns to me
No room is left, save a wee sacred place;
tender, yet shrewd, doubting each face
No forfeit of compromise
No relinquishing trust
No fanfare for promise,
as pain makes its thrust
Not one shall transpose, attesting your glory;
knowing the book is just half the story
Save me the savor of bitter seeds sown,
staying their peace until they are throned
A crowning that rides on dignity’s fall;
I want but a piece, while you claim it all
Take what you will – consider it profit,
but please keep your treasure locked in its pocket
The sum of its docket will spoil these fruits
My heart’s not the key for unlocking your truth

For Dungeon Prompt: Fear, how do you use it? … What are you afraid of…

I fear untrustworthy people; the ones who spend copious amounts of time camouflaging their true character in an effort to take advantage of others. If you are a brute, be a brute. If you are a player, be a player. If you’re a womanizer, drug addict, alcoholic, chauvinist, pervert, non-believer, or simply lost – not knowing what you are; do me and the rest of the world a favor and stop pretending to be something else. Whatever you are, just be real. As a person who tends to give others the benefit of the doubt (to a fault), I know all too well the pangs of disappointment and betrayal. Fortunate enough to have not developed a bitter heart, I do admittedly feature a notable level of cynicism and (probably) excessive discernment when approached by pursuers, as well as almost anyone offering “something for nothing.” True kindness, care, concern and, especially, love is so hard to come by because this society promotes and mass produces the element of smoke-screening. Whether the purpose is hiding, protecting, blending or manipulating… I think most people fail to realize that whatever your vices are – there is someone or a group of others out there who can relate to you and will embrace all your beautiful drama. I don’t know anyone who appreciates a liar, a fake or a user. Even thieves and tyrants have a code of ethics (however minimal). I am a free, loving, selfless spirit, and it’s a shame to always have to wonder… is this person for real? … is she sincere? … is he genuine? Do you know who you are… and do you wear that face publically and privately with integrity?

Postulation

It is only a thought…
but nothing is more powerful.
This sigh rides on notions
yet to be expressed,
ideas which may never
extend beyond my surface.

I wear this face
sometimes with shadows,
but mostly in the light
because I am too old for masks.
None seem to fit very well,
and my currency is too valuable.

There is no sleeve.
I only wear pores,
and they tend to breathe out loud.
If you feel what you do not hear,
you are a great listener.
Greatness often stops there.

While these concepts dance
around my heart,
shaping its comforts and anxieties,
my knowing grays.
I’ve compromised reality with
my internal experience.

For decades, I’ve tried,
and I predict for decades more,
to seize this assumptive power
so impassionedly lit by my
innate prowess in calculation.
With genius, sums emerge without parts.

I am brilliant, I tell you!
A creative mastermind of what-if…
I bet… no doubt… and why ask…
this sage of life’s prescripts
does not require outside input.
Out there is the air where deception breeds.

In here, I am safe.
The drawbridge is aptly manned.
My secrets and yours are hidden,
innocently composed in speculation,
where we both can rest easy…
until thoughts seep beyond my surface.