The Wordful War

2004-07-19T15:31:27Z

Aureate craft spilling from the gilded tongues
of frenzied clergymen, deeply besotted
in the orgasmic tempo of lyrical laudanum--
That is a wordful war to fight.

Heralds of blunt comprehension trumpeted
by pious worshippers, lured impulsively
to the sinful beckonings of artistic murmurs--
That is a wordful war to flee.

Vehement portents roaring of evil's lustration
from demented masses, trapped in naked lust
for the astral verse of poetic fervour--
That is a wordful war to fear.
.

Frozen in Silence

2004-06-02T15:17:42Z

Mother was weeping, but I knew not why:
Perhaps she had watched as the sun left the sky?
In the darkness, the moon was lonely and fair,
And it silently cried, in the frigid night air.

I knew, in the halls, she sometimes would pace;
I saw, in the pale glow, that tears stained her face --
The sepia shot of a man she would clutch;
He always was silently laughing too much.

He'd left on the brink of the November night;
She, lonely and fair, had despaired at his flight.
So through the fierce winter, the winds were all hushed;
He'd meant all she was, and now her he had crushed.

But if Father had fled, left us only his name,
Would the Father above be nearly the same?

(brought over from ahsirakh)
.

When Life Gives You Lemons

The Wordful War

Frozen in Silence