Home of random thoughts, misguided musings, wicked words and the men who make them.

Friday, April 28, 2006

The Addendum

I believe an addendum to the comforting Mount speech:
the promise of solace and the wounded are blessed.

Be pliable, tender; be meek.
Be willing to shatter as the Maker sees fit.

I believe there is something else
it’s this:
it’s this fact that this life will not always play nicely,
and sometimes
can’t pussy out.

Loud things collect
like a pile of vultures, and
turn from the carcass of
deeds to face
and when they, and then
the hard truth, I believe,
is that you must learn
also the choice
to rise to the wind
to bellow above it, and straight in their faces.

To prank a child’s safety
if he once broke your heart,
and flee into the woods, and snicker, thereafter.
To carry too far all your beautiful pottery and
to drop it, prepared,
for love of the crash.
To stride from your wreckage and,
drag it
while clings it
to your legs,
and laugh
until it releases.

To be set on fire,
and then not to mind,
for all the ways it is merely cleaning

And to all of this
exactly your method.
With no one to own you
through sense of what's needed
from you
nor by you.

But there are rules:
If your heart glazes, you lose.
You weep for your foes.
And your rage must be harmless,
sweet and amusing to someone good, in the telling,
and made pure
by willful
of any pretense to rightness.
(I have seen this work out.)

And don't fight the Devil,
who will kick your ass.
He is stronger than you and invisible,
and played his own games before you were a thought;
Politely say so and stay out of his way.

No, fury towards God,
and be in those moments an ape with a mane,
own them, those moments
you rude right to tantrum
when you know none of the sculpting,
nor poems of Cosmos.
Your pride is the thud of the fist on your breast
while suns, atoms and cells are vastly more subtle
and no less good-natured.

Why this?

I think, through it all,
sin of right
wrongly lived out,

don't ever, ever forget, not for a moment,
that God high above
always, always,
always smiles,
always smiles,
and always smiles at you.


Blogger Klipper said...

You're a heckuva poet my friend!

3:51 PM, May 01, 2006


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