Soon the sound that breaks the day
comes to chase our sleep away;
and the darkest dreams night grew
blink from black into lighter blue.
The world, barely recognized
through half-open, hazy eyes,
wakes slow with us, its warm glow
buried below the pillows.
Arise again and don your shield,
the ancient weapons you wield
against the dumb drones that come
reeking of rum and humdrum.
Be conscious now! You must choose.
Do not linger, or you lose
this moment’s span; if you can
still stand, battle is at hand.
Until the sound that stills the day
comes quietly to end the fray,
fight on fearless, king or pawn,
at every dawn, until you’re gone.
23 FEB 2017
The end nears: the sharp sword dulls.
Its slices seem less useful,
the elegant, diamond edged glance
of its dark dance less fancy.
Though its blue blade is well-scarred,
these wounds seem slight from afar;
there are just two that make it
useless, unfit for gambit.
Toward the tip, the first flaw:
result of a reckless draw;
the hilt, where some blood was spilt
has lost gilt and needs rebuilt.
But such a sword it once was,
for noble knights in the cause
of laws and learning, sacred stuff
that bade us bluff, in the rough
where blades meant business was done
by the strong and those who run
them, son. How soon we forget,
and quickly let a prize pet,
who we think so meek and mild,
assume control and loose wild
a chaos child that just kills
and cannot still its ire’s will.
We must end this mad worship:
the steel, the spoils and kingship;
to strip the sword of its might.
We start tonight, while there’s light.
13 DEC 2012
Most days I don’t mind the mess
that fills my fancy, doubtless
in its mad mire growing grand
plans my desires demand;
but today, the turmoil seeks
to wreck my poor reason’s speech
and turn to tares the flowers
where I’ve worked long hard spent hours.
Voices volley in my head;
oh, that order would instead
cast this chaos to the void
before this day is destroyed.
13 APR 2004