Tag Archives: integrity

Monday Poem: “Song of youth regained”

Song of youth regained

The child within was released again tonight
By a somewhat recognizable sound.
The familiar melody paved way to
Unfettered memory free that once was bound,
Unleashed the beast
Releasing sheets of heat
And light from yonder moon.
Light and laughter grew
And sang along in tune to beats
Of unsheathed imagination,
Offering subtle indications
Of beauty untold and unearthed gold.
The child then grew.
That child is you.
Don’t send them to their room.

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Monday Poem- “Jungle Man”

Jungle Man

In the jungle
One day I met a man
Who had obviously been there more than I
He informed me
That looks are deceiving
That he had woken up that morning for a walk
So I asked him
How he came to walk here
He took a wrong turn in the desert where he slept

My jungle friend
How I would love to help
But I too am stranded in this twisted wild place
My jungle friend
He helped me see myself
As I looked into his empty twisted wild face

There is no substitute for time alone in silence
No substitute for the rivers
Flowing with rhythm (controlled but free)
There is no substitute for the peace of violence
No substitute for this refining time with me

In the city
One day I met a man
Who looked rather like the man I met before
I informed him
Of my jungle dreaming
And of the ugly twisted face that I’d just saw
He asked me for a light
And he asked me for a fight
So I said that I don’t smoke
and that I’m not the fighting sort of bloke
While he looked at me with beady eyes
With greedy eyes
And needy cries
So he looked at me with beady eyes
And then he saw himself

A broken man
Unavailable for more
Incapable of war
But unstable like before
Not like the jungle man I saw
Not like the me I am before the dawn

Monday Poem: “Politics”

Politics

Caesar was loved by the masses
But stabbed in the back by his friends,
Who’d want to be a politician
And meet such a horrible end?
Caesar did what was right in his own eyes,
And that had just a small perk or two,
He knew how to defend
His ideas to all men
And how to tick off more than a few.

That’s just politics though, isn’t it?

Brutus (the coward)
Wasn’t brave, smart or proud,
Was not really anyone.
He went from being like a son
Then hardened to become
Just another hired gun.
Marc Antony was next
And quickly made a mess,
He did not have success
Before he followed in Caesars steps.

And the disc keeps turning,
Stuck on repeat.
That’s just politics though, isn’t it?

Monday poem: “Candidate for commitment”

Candidate for commitment

She’d heard a lot of tales before,
Both short and tall
She’d heard it all.
Of all the words she’d heard before
His meant more,
For what she saw:
It matched his words.

Monday Poem- “Farm Boy”

Farm boy

From his earliest daze
All he knew was the farm,
With his freckly nose
And suntanned arms,
He’d get up everyday
At the crack of dawn
So he could milk cows
And harvest the corn.
He could fix all the fences
And mend all the gates
And could handle the tractor
At the age of just eight.
He’d herd the sheep before lunchtime,
The lambs and the ewes,
Which paddock they went to
He got to choose.
However, the most important decision
Was not his to make
Because his father had bills
And the farm was at stake.
He wanted to sing though
(A secret he kept)
But saved performing for night time
In bed when he slept.
Every now and then though,
He’d just burst into verse,
When no one was looking
He’d get to rehearse.
He’d sing with the cattle, the horses and hens,
He’d sing when he fell into
The piggery pen.
As he sang before no one
While working outdoors,
All of Heaven responded
With excited applause.
The goats sounded better
To an untrained ear,
But when he sang from the heart
The angels revered:
A man with a calling
And a passion to sing,
As he worshipped His God
They called the farm boy
a king.

Monday Poem- “Ellsworth”

Ellsworth

Betrayal of a different kind
Has seized his mind,
When long-loyal-hearts
(Released without consent) can find
Themselves alone and just in time.

The knowledge of the lovers tiff
Caused an argument of sorts,
The quarrel was not between the two
But between conflicting thoughts.

The man who knelt beside her bed
With both hands clasped above his head
For fear the wench might soon be dead,
Was not the father of his child
(The one he’d been minding all the while
His wife was going wild).

What slaughtered her was not the man
Nor was it going wild,
She died of a broken heart you see
When she told him of his child.

Monday poem: “Imitators”

Imitators

My thoughts and poems are plagiarized
But don’t scoff for yours are too
The only difference is I try to copy Christ
My question is how about you?

Do you copy those you meet and hang around?
Is it “fitting in or bust”?
Do you imitate the stockbrokers?
Is it money that you lust?
Do you strive and strain for what can be gained
Or do you just like to complain?
We all bend our knees to something else
What is it you let reign?

Do you wish for greater intellect,
A better body or skill-set?
Do you feel your life would be complete
If these little needs were met?
Surely you must realize
It’s not the glory, gold or sex
That makes a life worth dying for,
No it’s not what you can get.

These things are functional idols
That we worship and pursue.
We all bow to someone,
I’m Christ’s fool, whose are you?