No secrets upon your lips
For your beauty is rooted in your honesty
And still they draw questions
Of philosophy and morality
Or whether sin can also be sacred
Though there shall likely be no blossom
This dirt still craves your light
Progenies
His laugh is a calliope
Composing purest joy
His eyes can look inside of me
With lashes long and coy
Redemption sits within his arms
And washes like a tide
I cannot claim his ruthless charm
But I can’t help feel the pride
A simple understanding shines
from his eyes upon the world
A wisdom heralded, enshrined
a boisterous love unfurled
I try to heed his teachings
fearlessly he claims his friends
Through smiling, laughing, reaching
and his willingness to bend
Sentimental Sunday: Call and Response
The skin that’s been blighted
A hope unrequited
exposing the roots of the rage that’s incited
Well shown in the annals
Is the way things were channeled
to turn certain humans from people to mammals
A continuous tamping
Through misandric vamping
and the boxes created were brutal and cramping
Yet their voices still rise
In unending reprise
our response to their call shows of what we’re comprised
Oblivious
We pray to our symbols
Drink blood from our thimbles
Ignoring the tree and the sky
We page through our books
But reel back from the looks
Of the pleading and suffering eyes
We sit, kneel and stand
And sing hand in hand
While shushing the laugh of a child
The gold seated gems
And kissing of hems
Save us from the savage and wild
We show brotherhood
to the like-minded good
but shun the discarded and odd
We call out the saints names
And admonish the shames
Can we truly claim knowledge of God?
Colloquial Parochial
This is a credible chronology
Dissecting this most sacred of phrenology
Too late to issue an apology
Hope it will be filtered through a study of nephrology
Some say I’ve always been pessimistic
But I don’t know how they figure the logistics
It’s mostly self-inflicted sadistics
Always asking the same questions from the mystics
What have i been put here to fulfill
What truth have I been destined to spill
Is there a demon I’ve been sent here to kill
Cause the more I ponder the less I can chill
So I go on with my daily practice
Trying to jostle the world of its axis
But my nerves shut me down like anaphylaxis
So I guess I’ll keep hanging on the edge of avarice
Elevate
We reach out to the universe
Through thought or prayer or ritual
The need for explanations
Is human and habitual
Impatient to unfolding life
We harvest much too soon
as changing as the currents
’round a newly freed balloon
Suspending expectation
but trying just the same
May float us to our freedom
up above the mortal game
Triumph
Give your tears to victory
That swelling wave of pride
Seek out your great mystery
The purpose deep inside
Surmountable
Formatively we stumble
clinging to our walls
though we’ve come so very far
we look back through it all
Various ruts and gutters
in which we have spent time
Mountaintops and villains lair’s
that we did somehow climb
Those things over and under
we forget we’ve overcome
when we see the world before us
and what’s left to be done
First Love
Adorned in dusty cobwebs
At home in this crevice
I know it seems unusual
Exploring now this premise
Alone with just my thoughts
No teeth to sink into me
No jelly covered fingers
Trying to poke through me
I’ve become somewhat a hermit
In this darkened cranny
I’m honestly quite comfortable
Though my nose draws near my fanny
Yet I still miss the snuggles
From her tiny wrenching arms
Twas nice to be a presence
That never did her harm
Perhaps one day she’ll find me
And we’ll embark on new adventures
And I’m sure I’ll love her always
Whether she wears pigtails or dentures
Sentimental Sunday: Queen
Regality rings from each step
Though she was never crowned
Her face it brims with peace and joy
As if she’s never frowned
You feel her walk into a room
Although she’s unannounced
Her smiles burst like explosions
Her laugh is poised to pounce
Her arms fill in your empty spaces
When held in her embrace
Sometimes she stumbles publicly
Giving clumsiness a grace
She openly donates her tears
When yours don’t seem enough
She knows the things that need be said
Dispensing of the fluff
You know her eyes see so much more
Then she chooses to reveal
You know her heart has room to hold
The many that she’ll steal
The Mewriginal 