Artwork by Chris Carrick

Noisesome and quarrelsome we be, bent upon denying
the heaven-sent.

Deviously selfish and enamored of fiery conflagrations,
of words afire, spiraling lower into the fathomless
black of the Abyss...

These barbed words are aflame with Spirit Light, because
I'm going all the way in - no holds barred - tonight.

I'm talkin' 'bout some seriously flipped scripts, on the:
"You don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout" type tip,
or some of that, "You ain't been where I been"
kind of lip.

I'm 'boutsta bend your ear all the way down to
the most Holy of grounds, soundin' off 'bout
the hidden clause of life, ignored without pause
by gods and men alike, psychoanalyzin' the Light in spite
of the gift-given-divinely, of intimately spiritual Sight.

Verbal attacks track the antics of feeble-minded tyrants
who have the nerve to arbitrarily serve a Spiritual Giant...
and no,I'm NOT talking about myself. (got it?)

[May God help all purveyors of the sublime...]

Because, although I have been known to rhyme a word or two,
to spin a tale or a few in lieu of that babblin' -
big word usin', non-definition knowin' -
and discombulated verbal stew blowin' of flatulent wind
that sometimes masks a fool not knowing what to do,
(or say) sprayin' shit just 'cause it sound good:like
diarrhea of the mind, writin' rhymin' lines,
"just because"...

Because, they...
Because, they could...
Because, they could...NOT STOP themselves, not realizing
that syntax and meter are Divine and that
Symbology awakens meaning beyond the borders of Time?

I mean, I ain't the one to force nobody's head
toward the Son,
to awaken worldly thoughts to the lessons He taught,
to remind some once again that beyond this world lies
THE END. (of mortal life, that is)

But, most simply said, to take the place of divine grace
alloted within a poet's MOST SACRED SPACE is negatively
Heretical.

Hermetic sciences applied by novices do indeed awaken
the God Breath, and will also take the weak and the unwary
that much closer to their appointed moment of death,
unless the resultant fear is Conquered,
the oppositional forces released,
controlled, and suppressed.

(you see, words KILL. words spoken in anger can FEEL. they're more than
just a THRILL. for REAL.)

[oh, now I see, they said...]

But I'm talking about poetry, FEEL me?

That flowin' non-breath holdin' stream-of-consciousness
reality foldin' multi-dimensional ascention above
non-verbal tension that awakens the crowd,
that gets everybody shoutin' and singin' out loud,
Got'damn I'm PROUD of this Poetic Nation!

But at the same time, I'm scared of Negative Confessional
oblations offered without groundin' in the Spiritual,
without the blessin's of the Ancestral,
or the necessary expressions of the Orchestral Harmonic
that sings within, that chorus of inner voices
that denounces each of our perversions and dedicated
spins upon worldly - and otherworldly - sin.

But, I wonder truly, is this understandable?
A parable for the terribly scorned and/or the unwarned?
A commendable lesson learned, metered out by
The Apothecary of the unwary?

Does the TRUE MEANING sink in? Tell me:
would you rather hear the Truth from an Enemy?

[Or a Friend...?]

That words are TRULY power? And, like that canary
in the mine that, once it keels over - dead to rights -
gives warnin' to miners to seek the sky:
those deadly gases, like sin, have filled our lives,
and that precious breath of Creation Become stills
in chests, and in minds that have forgotten what it is
to be Blessed.

Nebulous, my consciousness diffuses beneath the weight
of centuries. I fall, I rise, in Heaven's eyes
Sin burnt to ashes, Within I sigh,
hoping, praying for relief, gasping back words
only thought and not said.

Recognizin' their blasphemous nature diaphanous matters
come to a head, and Destiny coalesces in the moment
as Eons of conscious intent rent the Heavens,
and the Earth.

[Reminded of the Time, once again, I scribe these lines...]

Signs based in multiples of Seven (7) give birth to Eternity.

...and don't forget, poets, that old sayin' regardin'
the casting of pearls before swine. Free your mind...