FALLING TO PIECES TOGETHER

The murmuring flies,

The croaking crows,

The scoffing horses,

Reflect in the rippling daydreams where

I am a dog

Following a cat

Mewing to a mouse

Hidden in the hay

Where sleeps a boy beneath a book,

Ripe with wonder.

My eyes are torn pages

Worn by the wind devouring

Ashes of my mother cast

Unto the meadow, unveiling

A tiny finger bone, it

Once held me as a baby holding

That finger, I held

That finger bone.

I don’t know why I let it go.

 

 

 

 

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REFUGEES FROM EDEN

If we are sinners banished

We can never be happy.

A thousand sinful minds

Try to build New Eden,

Pursuing the notion of happiness

Like grapes out of reach

While standing in a sea of tears

That cannot slake thirst

With our dreams of memories tantalizing us

Drunk at the bacchanal of self-importance.

If we are not sinners banished

Eden was a lie

To make the children sleep,

Sleep their way home

Following the crumbs of atoms.

 

 

 

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(REFLECTION) ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE RECEIVING OF THE TEN COMMANDMENTS

I am Clarence Hellmold.

I knew I was old when I could hear the waterfall at the edge of my world.

And the currents around me were speeding up.

I am now most aware of the passing of all things.

That all things pass must have been man’s first revelation.

What are the facts?

I reflect.

There is something called “me” that reflects.

What is reflected?

That gets me nowhere.

Precisely to the point.

And a point mathematically is not a “thing”; a point is a place.

“I” is here.

Here is nowhere imaginable.

Yet everywhere I can imagine is “I”

Does that make me a God?

No

God is the unimaginable.

How can I conceive of the very idea of unimaginable?

I don’t know.

God is “I don’t know”.

Not “I AM”.

Or is the canvas of “I am” God?

I DON’T KNOW

Probably God’s little toe is the “I am”

 

 

 

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KINGDOM OF THE GRAVE

My soul did cross your spirit

Amid the great crusade of youth,

To be entombed near it,

Behind the sealing stone of truth,

Renewed for forty years and forty dying,

With each kind compassion,

Recycling bloody claw and tooth,

My God I try to fashion

Around my beaten heart, uncouth

In blasphemy for you overlying,

Before you nothing craving,

And so for that remain a slave

With the nothing I am saving

Within the holey Kingdom of the Grave.

 

 

I LOVE MY WIFE

I love my wife
Forever will she be
The treasure of my life
Inspiring me
With no Ambition’s knife
With naught for quantity
Beyond the realm
Of her desire
.
.
My heart does whelm
My inner choir
To spare me silently
All the senseless strife
If alone I be
With self Ambition rife
With only vanity
To steer the helm
So pointlessly
.
.
This all above
I would have said of you
If it were me you love

 

WAITING FOR THE NEXT MOMENT

Look around

It is all a flux of chemicals upon the face of the earth

Like acne

Everything arises and demises

Nature is vain

Changing her attire every moment

For whom?

For what mirror?

For awhile we spin

Like the red spot on Jupiter 

Then we land on the dark side of the moon

Did we have to invent explanations?

How diabolical

Curiosity drove the cat beneath your wheels

If you give up explanations then what do you give up?

Gambling

God doesn’t play dice

He hands the dice to us and takes our bets

The house always wins

The house designs the odds in its own favor

No dice, pal

We are here for sorrow

Then what can we make of sorrow?

Compassion

It too leads to sorrow, you learn

But in compassion we become greater than any deranged god corrupted by ultimate power

And so we are sentenced to death by that god

But we are his flaw, his counterfeit crown

Death worships us

Death will do anything for us