Friday, February 7, 2014


sometimes there's a word on the tip of your tongue
heavy and dark and full of promise
stuttering there, trembling, waiting to fall, to be spoken.
sometimes the word is a name, so soft
filled with edges and consonants and gentle vowels
sometimes the word is just a word
simple, delicate, a rose on the edge of the world
about to fall, gravity reaching its slender fingers skyward
to grip and grasp and pull it down
sometimes the word is a vow
a trembling thing, so small, so frail, so weak
but let the seed grow and it will give you pause
and a reason to wake up, in a world of a heartless many
sometimes the word is just a thought
and an endless, formless, sightless terror
nameless and feared, and there will never be enough of us
of the compassionate few, to slay the dragon
sometimes the word is an idea
hiding in plain sight, behind a Guy Fawkes mask
with the endless determination of a madman
sometimes the word has no meaning, because it's been said too often
by the wrong mouths shaping the wrong voices
sometimes the word is said
and the rose falls, to shatter on the pavement, and let the shards fall
and pierce a scream of a name
to chase away the terrors
and make a vow.

(c) 2013

Saturday, February 1, 2014


Don’t try and guess my methods
Leave them lie and let them be
Just raise your hands and pray to me
Call my name; let it ring among the stars
My grace is in the breath of a world,
Insignificant among worlds
Tiny; just a speck of dust of the map of the sky
Raise your hands and pray to me
Say my name, scream it loud
Beg for mercy, love, a burial shroud
But fear me not – great is my love
Greater than the heat of suns
But like the universe itself, it will fade
Wake in the wonder of the worlds, but remember
I cannot grant you wishes
Nor create where there was emptiness
For I am not god

Nor am I God.

(c) 2014