Not all of us were
Born to privilege. Some of us
Are just up from dirt.
Hardscrabble
Tag: nature
Hazy
The not so far off
City slumbers, warm, hazy
Late summer doldrums
Admiration
Like a beautiful
Bird, she soars, and lights where she
Will. She needs no cage.
Wounded Horse
Galloping horse am
I, my blood streaming down my
Flanks, never stopping.
What Have You Really Loved Till Now?
“Your real educators, those who formed you, reveal to you what is the true primary meaning and fundamental substance of your being … Your true self does not lie deeply concealed within you but immeasurably high above you, or at least above what you usually take for your ego.” Nietzsche
What I love is the
Neat, obedient, well made.
Miniature, fine
Tuned, durable, marked
By craftsmanship. Intricate,
Smelling of old wood
And discipline. Love
I also the raw, untamed,
Unshorn, tacky, and
Tawdry, unabashed
And simple, open and free.
Wild, naked, real.
I am Apollo
And I am Dionysus,
Sharing a lifetime.
Ape
To you, I’m an ape.
The one who can’t get it right.
Your erudition
By ineptitude
Mocked. Your endorsement forced by
Circumstance, against
Your better judgment.
You put your weakness on me.
With a word I could
Destroy you, but it
Wouldn’t change a thing. Just like
Nothing I do will
Change your mind. I must
Spend my days, body wracked with
Tension, laboring
To master every
Intricacy over and
Again, trying to
Forget you exist.
Futility ever dogs
Me. To you I send
It, from whence it came.
This craft is beautiful, and
It is mine to keep.
Dead To Me
Nothing they say can
Hurt me. Stop me. Change me. Make
A damn bit of a
Difference in my
Life. I scatter them to the
Four winds, they vanish.
Yehedasheth
Yehedasheth
And his tribe descended from
The steppes, balloons of
Spirit (ruach) did they tow.
They did raise mighty temples
To Adonai, called
Pyramids. They were
Betrayed in Egypt, priestess
Bound and crushed beneath
The pyramid, but
One day they would return in
Fire and fury.
Latter Day Warlord
A warrior from
Days of old reborn to this
Aeon, finds his hands
Ever bound by grim
Drudge routine. He wants to slay,
To conquer, to rule,
To taste the sting of
Betrayal and death, standing
To the last; instead
He takes a breath, counts
The days, and awaits the time
For his revival.
Herman’s Hermitage 