FOOLISH HEART
I do not have a hard time making a fool of myself;
It comes easily around in a cycle of sorts;
I stand tall in the ideals
Of my soul’s spiritual constitution,
While my imagination
In my body parts cavorts.
The result is a series of wonderful propositions
That my sins and their temptations soon aborts:
There is relishing the silence and the darkness
And spiritual poverty and holiness and good;
While thinking in the caverns of my loneliness
That there is nothing without some help
I ever could manage alone
Without sooner or later realizing
It was only a passing thing
Which for a short time I stood.
Then inevitably, I crawl my way back
Into the garbage pail until I remember
The best thing a successful winner
Should cling to and run to and embrace
Is the brass ring,
And with both hands and heart
And not just the foot;
Which inevitably winds up
With shoe still attached
In my mouth
Where I so indelicately
Chose it to put.
2014.02.25.0000
Yes, I want to crawl into such foolishness
With everyone else calling all the shots;
But eventually I must help
With the direction where they are leading
By compulsively connecting the dots.
So I am seducing myself and the world
And enjoying the resultant surprise
That the hand and the foot seem to fit well enough
But the heart turns out to be the wrong size.
2014.02.25.2200 ©
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STUPID GARDEN GAME
I have had my fill of contempt!
Over backwards and forwards for too many
I have bent:
I have been spent for what?
I was meant for something more in this life
And surely beyond!
But then who is exempt?
No man.
Not the God-man.
Not even God.
Contempt, rejection, scorn, disdain;
The pain of living in this world:
Surely someone somewhere hates you.
I just don’t know why I find it
So difficult to accept;
Yes, I do!
It does not feel good,
Unless I try to like it:
Like a commoner,
A vulgar plebe,
A profane pervert;
Feeding the likes of the proud
And those who have the power;
Giving them what they want to hear and see
To free them from their own fear
Of rejection and feeling of contempt:
A silly drama played out
In all the schools and the playgrounds,
The boardrooms, the boarding rooms
And the nursing homes;
What sickness!
Surely not an original sin!
Just each man and woman putting their own spin
On the face of a serpent
Hell bent on contempt.
2014.02.25.1900 ©
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