“Humility”

“Humility”

Humility–unwieldy companion to arrogance–speaks;
In time, longevity in the Philistine at last
Ignites a divine belated blessèd anger, a righteous task
Of inevitable cosmic correction, a conscious meeting
Of place, heart, and justice inward while but a fleeting
Moment entangles cogently with reality to consume its fee; the hour has passed;
Its purpose, certitude. Illumination in the glass
Reveals the nieces and nephews of beauty; a faith, sans its gleaming
Spark leavens all and leaves no doubt wasting nothing in its evening
—A meagre point of knowledge as with a single atom addressed at last
As an adagio, its goal, avoiding capture in the very act of viewing.
Benchmarks as in histories are no substitute for misconstruing
Immortality for license; this thing must grasp
A certain concrete action impossible in similitude and innuendo.
All natural pains reverse themselves in their own abyss. Crescendo
In relief and remission in its early morning traffic
Is natural and expected but somehow chafes as sporadic
Thought leans to the oblong, ambivalence
Routinely mastered in the erratic
Stampede to a perfect Thursday. What’s problematic
Becomes the norm, messianic disturbances
Loosed for casual observation by hecklers mounting static
Interference fit for comment from pundits and pedestrian
Anchormen amongst one’s friends while excellence is ignored
And noted if at all in spite of Noah’s warning. She continues walking,
Lights another cigarette, inhales, recklessly stalking
Herself and somehow in the car she questions:
Why doesn’t he close the door?

Friedrich Nietzsche
[ 1844 A.D. - 1910 A.D.]

“The Midnight Hymn”

Oh man!  Take heed!
What does the deep midnight say?
I slept!
I have awakened from a deep dream.

The world is deep.
And deeper than the day remembers.
Deep is its suffering.

Joy is deeper yet than heartache!

Suffering speaks:  Begone!

All joys want eternity,
Want deep, deep eternity.

“Vacant Eyes”

Vacant eyes among the dead
But still with us here, adamantine in the living; not one
Cipher yet released but vision’s blighted and charity is stunned
For fear of seeing what is here exchanged for fear and dread
Of what are but liquid saline crystals. Innocuous, yes, but give it time,
My friend, and what today may not be said
Will circumvent the tongue that spreads
The a smple truth. Esteemed, again, perhaps, but forked and evenly refined
As is all speech within the audience of the tomb;  extinguished, a blight within
The dark, the abyss of pupils’ definitions signed in sighs of the redeemed
Who only gape at wounds, whose lips now openly gainsay
Self-deception, its liquors distilled from all that glitters in the winds.
To he who will, decision falters in the light of day;
To he who has no will, the tongue will rush to have its say.