Wild flowers ran amok in the ignorance of youth endured,

This Garden unkempt, untended, tangled with thorns,

So long I bristled at every prick, but never bore the blame,

Though now I see the deed and oath have ever borne my name.

Gladly I toil for the glory I have glimpsed.

In faith I nourish this hallowed gift,

To clear and till and sow,

To plant each lovely seed and tender shoot,

And eagerly watch them grow.

This garden sanctuary,

My refuge of peace, comfort in troubled times,

Place to lay my head and rest,

Blessed communion circumscribed by transcendent oath and sign,

Righteous pleasure our blossom on the vine.

Oh I hear her calling now,

My Promised Land while passing through.

Her song a plea of passion,

Her fragrant scent adrift upon the breeze,

Blows from a land flowing with milk and honey,

Full of wine to make my heart rejoice.

I lift my voice and answer,

Arise to stride through her guarded gates swung wide,

Received with cries of delight, soil moaning beneath my calloused might

Treading gentle and firm.

Clusters of grapes sway softly with every breath,

I take and eat.

Her love a purple lilly potion brewed to heal,

I drink my fill.

Oh what blessed refreshment all my efforts now yield.

I pray thee Lord, keep me faithful.

Oh windy morn’, thy might displayed

When stolid hands seize all God’s trees and firmly shake.

Every bow waving in the breeze,

The rustle of leaves,

Verdant green, whispering… “Mystery!”

Trunks gently rock upon their roots,

And I,

I stand and sway and tilt in time,

Quietly sipping joy,

Face upturned, eyes at rest, enraptured,

As the breath of grace

Pleasantly caresses my face,

Tussles my hair like some bonny lass

Who, smiling, calls me lover--faithful and true.

I cherish the moment and linger,

Heart full of thanks for such simple bliss,

Enriched all the more in communion.

Would that my lady were here now

To hold my hand in silence and sway with me as one,

Joined by years of intimate affection,

Drinking in the beauty of a world we seldom pause to see.

I sit on the cushioned swing,

rocking gently to and fro.

A fall wind beneath a full moon

breaths on my skin.

Shadows dance, flames crackle,

embers rise, the remains of another day consumed.

In silence I am reborn,

swaddled in denim and fleece.

I smile at my son.

He stirs the coals,

goads them to burn, and smiles back,

mischief wrestling with maturity.

I breathe out to feel the darkness

lift slowly from my heart.

My daughter fills her cheeks

with roasted marshmallow, melted chocolate,

licks her fingers half clean,

chestnut hair glistening, eyes twinkling with the stars.

My wife slides in next to me,

snuggles her warm body against mine,

kisses my cheek and whispers love in my ear.

I cast a glance across rippled waters,

the pond shimmering in the pale light,

breathe deep her pleasant presence.

My eyes close.

I lie my head down in her lap and sleep in peace,

content with this sweet providence, secure…

all is well.

Just another ho hum dum drum day shift, quiet and stuck serving court subpoenas. Amongst many others, I had a few to deliver in the one project located on the northside of town. (Ever hear the old saying “wrong side of the tracks”? Well, that’s how our town was set up. Southside of the tracks was mostly hood. Northside was mostly well to do people. The difference. Southside the crime was out in the open. Northside it was mainly behind closed doors, invisible till we got a call.)

Anyway, on this particular day I walked up to this one apartment, knocked, and waited. The lady answered, easing the screen door open. I said hi and told her I had a subpoena for court. She was cordial, no problems, but as I’m handing her the subpoena something grabbed my eye and when I looked down at her side I saw a little boy, kind of cute, probably one and a half to two years old. He was still wearing training pants.

I smiled and waved my fingers at him. He looked up, blank stared me in the eye for a few seconds then suddenly formed an X with his forearms and slapped his crotch three times; WACK, WACK, WACK, pumping his hips in time, just like he was the WWF wrestling star Triple H doing his signature Triple X move, which is where I’m positively sure he got it from since Triple H was super popular at the time.

I was a bit flabbergasted, but I hid it until I was walking away wondering what in the hell the next generation would be like. It sure as shit didn’t look promising. Then again, one of my partners was a body builder who did that same shit to us in the squad room.

Roll of the dice, I suppose. Only time would tell.

Everyone dances in the Masquerade --

Gross darkness

Veiled behind supple flesh and hidden motives.

Philanthropic dreams corrupted by our sinful egos,

Like some rampant cancer.

We’re all terminal, just can’t accept it.

No one’s good by nature.

Subtle disguises, secret pleasures, choice sins.

Shake hands with Dr. Jeckyl ,

But no one can meet Mr. Hyde.

We’re so cynical.

Hypocrites have us all fooled.

Hard to see the light of grace living in flawed saints.

We trivialize our own guilt and

Turn away from our fallen brothers.

No one wants to see the face of evil

Peeking from behind their neighbor’s mask;

A handsome smile flashing razor teeth,

Tongue dripping deceitful charm.

We’re loathe to admit the truth --

The cannibal beast still prowls the Ivory Tower of Babel, and

Man cannot escape to the heavens.

He fell short long ago, yet struggles on in vain,

Hopelessly defiant,

Scrambling for the stars,

Building with brittle bricks

Crumbling beneath the weight of wicked hearts.

I know what it means to be human --

A marred image,

Cannibalistic by nature,

Driven by unbridled desires;

An open wound inflicted by selfish pride,

Infected with strife.

We file our teeth in anticipation,

Eying our neighbor’s gold.

Envy rules the night,

While jealousy darkens the day.

Malice broods over her raging young,

Bellies ever bloated from lust --

Ever hungry, never satisfied,

Ravenous,

Born to eat the dead

And kill any who oppose their will.

Our hunger embodies our doctrine:

Evolutionary animals struggling to survive.

No rhyme or reason,

No evil, no good.

Affections rule the age.

No law, no God,

No one to judge another.

Do as you please,

But don’t stand in my way,

You’re no better than I.

Rule #1 and never forget:

I will have what I want,

Take what I can seize.

Look at my razor smile,

Peek behind the mask.

Without conscience and indifferent to your pain,

Ready to assume the liturgical task

Of sacrifice to the beast within.

I’m the only one I really love.

Don’t tread on my dreams,

Your life means nothing to me.

I’m the pinnacle of progress,

I’ll eat your hopes to feed my greed.

Moral muscles strain against indulgence,

Smooth limbs and silken skin strangling my convictions,

Fantasy slowly devouring fidelity.

Conscience battered,

Covenant consciousness fades;

Succubi lullaby

Mesmerizes the resistant will,

Captures my affections.

Splinter in my mind - the time when I was in control.

For shame I could pluck out my eyes

With Oedipus, sit in disgust, yet to no avail.

The images, alive, will not die;

Their silken hips, on parade,

Will not cease to gyre and sway.

Eyes beg, lips plead, tongues drip flattery,

All day long they call to me.

My strength expires in the lap of Delilah,

Tempted to rest my head and lie content,

I fear a dark, spiraling descent…

Closing.

O how the mighty man’s steady steps soon stumble.

In love with the wanton woman’s lusts,

I regress.

Weary and worn,

Feebly torn betwixt the blessing and the curse,

I battle still to tread not the way where death awaits

With painted lips and perfumed flesh,

Hiding the breath of decay.

Wild flowers ran amok in the ignorance of youth endured,

This Garden unkempt, untended, tangled with thorns,

So long I bristled at every prick, but never bore the blame,

Though now I see the deed and oath have ever borne my name.

Gladly I toil for the glory I have glimpsed.

In faith I nourish this hallowed gift,

To clear and till and sow,

To plant each lovely seed and tender shoot,

And eagerly watch them grow.

This garden sanctuary,

My refuge of peace, comfort in troubled times,

Place to lay my head and rest,

Blessed communion circumscribed by transcendent oath and sign,

Righteous pleasure our blossom on the vine.

Oh I hear her calling now,

My Promised Land while passing through.

Her song a plea of passion,

Her fragrant scent adrift upon the breeze,

Blows from a land flowing with milk and honey,

Full of wine to make my heart rejoice.

I lift my voice and answer,

Arise to stride through her guarded gates swung wide,

Received with cries of delight, soil moaning beneath my calloused might

Treading gentle and firm.

Clusters of grapes sway softly with every breath,

I take and eat.

Her love a purple lilly potion brewed to heal,

I drink my fill.

Oh what blessed refreshment all my efforts now yield.

I pray thee Lord, keep me faithful.

Weary countenance, sunken eyes,

Sadness raining from sullen skies,

Matting your hair in tangled locks.

Some foul bird, perched on daddy’s window ledge,

Whistled anguish as a song,

Your mind straining beneath the burden of death tarrying far too long,

Impotent, I tottered before your torment,

Powerless to soften the horror you wrestled with that day.

“It’ll be okay,” mere words spilling folly,

Like some native idiot tongue.

I saw what a poor comforter I was.

I watched her face as she spoke calmly

Of her pending death.

Serene. Steadfast in faith.

A firm grip on hope.

Resolved to meet the end with a dignified,

Unworried ease.

Once, I thought I could do the same,

But self consumes me now.

I don’t want to leave this world.

Too early.

Not ready to consider my wife lying

In the bed of another.

Not ready to abandon our fleshly passions.

Don’t want to miss my children

Graduating, marrying, parenting,

Little feet pitter pattering again across our floors.

Want to finish that novel

with the thin layer of dust on my nightstand,

See the sequel to my favorite movie from last year.

Anxiety grips me at any contemplation of my own death.

I avoid the reality with assorted “La La La’s.”

Turn up the TV, music, streaming video clips,

Assume some menial task,

Anything to distract,

To disengage my brain from

Thoughts of a Providential God

Whose plans I do not know,

The uncertainty

Terrifying,

My inability to muster courage,

Demoralizing.