26 February 2016

By Bread Alone (The Seven Days of Destruction)

When man lives by bread alone
I’ll finally be free
Reclaim my fame, shake off my shame
For no one’s watching me.

When man lives by bread alone
We’ll live in harmony
No iron fists or Communists
From sea to shining sea

When man lives by bread alone
There will be no restraint
No tethers to my feathers
No sinner and no saint

When man lives by bread alone
We’ll have no need for cops
We’ll laugh until we vomit blood
And find we cannot stop

When man lives by bread alone
We’ll carve statues in the nude
Discard defects, our god is sex
My children are his food

When man lives by bread alone
Our souls will wash away
Below the streets, between the sheets
Our bodies will decay

When man lives by bread alone
Alone I’ll always be
I'll hold my breath, await my death
For no one's watching me.

19 February 2016

Lady Beauty

Don’t mind us, mountain and meadow
We are just passing through
The growing cold drives us
To reach the campsite before sundown
But Time pays no heed to urgency.

I asked the Girl with the Curly Hair,
“What are you thinking about?”
She answered—whispering—“I was thinking
I was thinking that—we don’t belong here.”
She’s right. We don’t belong here.

For the flowers were on a quest to find the bee
And only passed through our nostrils by accident
The sky pulled back the curtains
To perform an opera
That we did not pay to see.

“Beauty has smiled
But not to greet us
Her face was turned in our direction
But not to see us." 1

Oh! How familiar are the poets with
Her sweet, mocking mouth
And the Inaccessible Kiss
That comes from the puzzling East…

Kneeling, they bring petty offerings before
Lady Beauty, who ruffles her feathers
In horrible indifference to the beholder
(Time pays no heed to urgency)

How can we go back? Can we now return
To the comfort of half-realities?
To daydreams and photographs
To windshields and windows?

No. We have gone too deep into the wood now
Where Thought itself feels like an indecency
And we, who have the audacity to speak
Speak only in whispers.

[1] Lewis, C.S. “The Weight of Glory” p.7