Godot51
Godot51's Journalthe farm
the farm
six feet long six feet deep planted the seed of eternity
no smell taste nor touch to test the viability of the soil
at what price never cheap joining in death’s fraternity
even as the memories clutch still onto this vale of toil
a single crop has been sown in the dank silent ground
days fly decades pass unnoticed the dry ghosts patient
a time to harvest the bones seeing if god can be found
nestled in by a mother doted as beings once sentient
the flowers are in full bloom a somber subtle bouquet
leaning against the headstone a name not yet carved
leaves sticks and mud loom masking a scent of decay
iron toed boots strike bone desperate vultures starved
the farm has lain barren fallow through many seasons
the watching faces grow sallow for unknown reasons
my father's gun
my father’s gun
before we moved to the country my father told stories
of all the fun we’d have hunting and fishing and hiking
he was selling us a dream of a future that he hoped for
promises made and promises kept and promises broken
speaking of an idyllic childhood of farm dogs and horses
tomatoes fresh from the vine and corn growing in rows
of his father’s stern visage and his mother’s sweet face
in the woods checking rabbit traps drinking well water
and from somewhere he obtained a beautiful shotgun
a harness filled with shells gun oils and cleaning rods
it sat in my parents closet among shoes and shoe trees
fascination drawing me every time i was at home alone
he took it out a few times on clear cold winter mornings
shot a few rabbits and put it away never to be fired again
the burning
the burning
sifting through the ashes collecting the remains
charred and blackened and still smoldering hot
ignore occasional crashes the edge of the flames
winds have slackened yet the embers are caught
carefully hiding a heat from unsuspecting hands
where are the precious those hoarded in all time
the memories incomplete or the unfinished plans
lost in fever so infectious invades an empty mind
fire water and debris assault the senses of smell
imprinted upon the soul kept forever in the heart
photographic flash results before the gate of hell
reduced to lumps of coal now once more to start
tears glisten on a face lost of any understanding
fears listen in the space costs are undemanding
enemies in war
enemies in war
gut shot and bleeding free on the edge of peace
the pain has not reached the access of the brain
fingers slip and eyes see only the black release
the soul to be beseeched holds the secret of cain
lying in the yellow mud all lost in roaring sounds
words never formed in mind bubbling from lips
coated in a patina of blood mystery of no bounds
ghosts flitter language kind with unfamiliar grips
cold clustered clouds falling fill vision in despair
a hot rain turned to iced sin shrivels and wanes
covered in khaki shrouds lit upon by dying flares
praying to the lost christ amidst the flying flames
sad sights meet the glance life quickly turns away
the one who held the lance sinking into the clay
the last door
the last door
i am afraid to approach the last door yet it waits
bleak black gray and grim hung on rusted hinges
who dare to encroach a forbidden place of hates
except the aged and the dim survivors of binges
turned and burned out to a semblance of peace
fear the next drink or pill falling again into deep
one more fight or bout a final chance of release
hands that shake and spill eyes crave only sleep
what lies behind the door is it there to be feared
will the gesture of opening allow sins to escape
angels and demons galore the ordinary or weird
that by merely motioning disguises god’s shape
now the doorknob beckons and looks harmless
as the future reckons as touch of death’s caress
my house in order
my house in order
is it time for me to put my house in order
the calendar only lies the mirror reflective
telling me i have one foot across a border
sees through my disguise timidly neglected
pull out the drawer or open the cupboard
after a brief futile glance close them again
clothes on the floor an indignity endured
piles without balance scent of a lion’s den
possession once precious set in shambles
in care stored saved and almost forgotten
gaudy and pretentious high price gambles
a cost of the enslaved the sober besotten
sorted in a mental triage to towers of piles
perform a soul’s jihad on folders and files
a secret sea
a secret sea
afloat lost and uncharted upon a secret sea
no beginning nor end a solitary speck drifts
among the souls departed faint and ghostly
the wounds do not mend bandaged in mist
sightless and soundless in the bath of blood
only a slightest touch brushing against skin
appearing to be boundless set inside a flood
with no hopes to clutch nor a time to be in
directions are unknown no course is plotted
the lapping of the waves the only indication
a mystery of the bone the senses are clotted
and a universe enslaves the start of creation
to continue or to stop is a constant struggle
to the bottom or the top or to forever huddle
the lines:
the line
as my mother approached the savage moment
the line between life and death stood waiting
all of time whittled down into a single second
aware or unaware of the jump into its breadth
living in borrowed flesh breathing ancient air
melting ice coursing down the lips and a chin
wiping the face swaddled in sweat and silence
unmoving delving deep into a drugged solitude
all things once before have now become behind
there is no looking back or into the dim future
a movement as great as the start of the universe
and infinity has stretched a single pebble to life
a sudden gasp all moments gather into a ball
the last release and time surrenders and ceases
-1-
adrift
adrift
waves lapping breezes catching as low ripples glisten
how long has this continued in times of no meaning
a collection of lives meshing waiting for a transition
life to death has been issued a ghost sharply keening
separate the water from blood the flesh slow to decay
movement becomes motionless past and future mixed
as the memories wane and flood wash runnels in clay
settled into the brokenness befuddled and transfixed
burnt by a merciless sun cooled by the merciful night
hunger and thirst are past all desire now worn numb
and the circling sharks come near in and out of sight
is it wishful to seek the last waiting for a death hum
adrift amidst random thoughts flickering on and off
a single die has been tossed from below or from aloft
the price of dream
the price of dream
to clutch the ragged fragments of dreams upon waking
desperately diving the depth of sleep seek some return
searching the frantic remnants while they are breaking
binding the gaps that are cleft as broken wishes yearn
lying sleepless in the deep night seeking to put in order
pages torn from fact and fiction scraps blowing in wind
reckless random ideas creep crossing the sealed border
bereft of touch and friction slip and slide as they bend
a moment of time now missing eyes blinking unseeing
will a heart to go back to repeat a mantra’s repetition
stilling a soft sibilance hissing of the essence of being
building of a black upon black to define the definition
awakening to a bright sunlight pushing last night away
lose old thoughts as one might dangers put on display
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Member since: Wed Sep 22, 2010, 08:34 PMNumber of posts: 781