Savages and Saints

A poor young girl climbs the broken steps of a stranger’s house, just looking for some food to stop the constant pangs of starvation. She’s just needs some water cause she’s choking. She just needs some relief. God look, girl needs some relief.

The poor young girl climbs upon the table, and she finds herself some porridge. She searches for a bed, and finds herself a stranger’s bed. She sleeps and is awoken. The strangers are home; they have readied their teeth and claws.

Baby if you weren’t sure, the world is all teeth and claws.

The world is all teeth and claws and I need some food. I need some light, to see how bright things can be. I need the sanctuary of brothers in arms. The clarity of Day eludes my soul.

I have dealt my cards, I took on the world and the world took on me.

He was angry (will he always be?) that I took potential for my establishment and burned it with the pain.

Yeah, I feel the heat. I feel the impulse to hide my face, cause I don’t know if I am safe. The pressure of an ocean of tears and sweat, twist my focus into panic. Oh Lord, if only they knew, I am panicked. Really and honestly, Im afraid of everyone.

They ask when I’m gonna sort it out.

Gotta have the drugs to sort it out.

Gotta have the time to sort it out.

Gotta have the fuckin resolve to sort it out.

Gotta write it all down.

Write all their advice down.

Gotta remember their pain so I don’t endure.

Don’t wanna endure.

I’m gonna endure.

Angry man, come to me, sit with me, and we will talk about the crimes against you. Baby its real simple, I cant change anyone, but of course I will listen. I will listen and get the full story despite the fact its not what I want to hear. Ask yourself, should we, are we to ask for what we want to hear?

The nature of the world it not one made for me, not made to stick my sloppy tongue and all the counter points it conceives into the delicate balance of others lives. So I bite it. And I just validate and affirm that they were never crazy for feeling that way. Cause its all wilderness, and Ive found them all to be savages who want to be saints. Old men with cold hearts too babe. They’re all the same. They’re all afraid of the wilderness. I’m gonna walk back into the wilderness.

We went into the dark, we chose to ignite the unknown. Those demons have no place here, do they? So lets take all of their words and melt them down. Do you see how they fall into nothing before the feet of the King of Day?

I shave my beard. I cut my hair. I’m gonna burn all my gold. Im gonna scream until the sun sets. Im gonna bleed until I get old. Teeth and Claws greet me when my legs fail me. So, I’ll tell them stories of my invincibility while I slowly fall before insanity. I spend every night with fire in my eyes and I sink further into the gasoline.

They choose to draw back their hands. This is what they choose. Their bitter and cold hearts deceive the notions and intentions of their souls. They scream in agony at the sight of defeat.

I challenge them to look defeat into the eye. They whimper. They cower behind defense mechanisms and blame and impossibilities and their fucking unalienable rights.

Honestly, I grow sick at their cowardice. I grow sick with man.

But I am not here to be a hypocrite. Therefore, I will listen to whatever you have to say, be it good or bad, righteous or evil.

Come quickly King of Day, so that they do not snatch me up. We have no home, we have no food. Show me how to love my enemies. Show me how to soften my heart. Show to be me a man of my word. Show me your hand in the dark.

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Sweetest Song to my Blackbird

Put on your best shirt. I wanna see that magic tonight. I know the valley of darkness holds the apple of your eye. But see look here. Here is his staff. Here is his Rod.

Pretending nothing is wrong. Keep a sly smile in your pocket just in case. In your bag, you keep a list of compulsions you never knew the reasons to. Uncommitted to Gods glorious commission. You are held up by a ghost.

Oh, sweet Blackbird. You were stabbed in the back. You can never see your wound with your naked eye.

Monday night. I put my arm around my girl. I leap to show you whatever I saw. I was lookin for the heart and destiny of our Saint Valentine. Neon lights and enough coffee to drive a man crazy. A girl cries what she wishes was her last tear. She knows its not.

Oh sweet Blackbird. You know I'm gonna find the time to catch your hand. Did I not forgive you the moment you confessed?

Faith in me you say? Yes, have faith in me, but what I want is truer and bluer joy and a brighter Day. But am I truth? Am I the most noble King of Day?

There is a gem. The gem is your most precious possession. All your security, all your ambition, all your future, all your love, all your pain, all your secrets, all your vulnerabilities, all your fears, and the very nature of your life. You treasure this gem.

Take moment to close your eyes. Take a good look at your most precious possession.

You have a challenge. Your challenge is to give the gem away. But to whom? To what? You can read till your dead with the answer to the question. But you and I know a secret, don't we?

We know the truth, don't we?

This is why we rejoice in what we know.

We know where to put the gem.

We know man can hurt us. We know the things of this world are as temporary as dreams.

As carriers of truth, we are called not just to give the gem, but to give the gem to the most noble King of Day. Who hands it over to Aslan. He holds it in his unconquerable and immortal kingdom. He always valued, and protected, and held your gem as a most noble star.

You gave me the gem. I adore your gem, understand that it is sacred. But I fail you. I can not find a place in my brokenness to hold your gem so high. This is not my design, dearest love. My gem, is not yours darling. Our love is immortal, but our romance is merely mortal.

True unrequited joy, is when your gem, your most sacred possession, is held by our Eternal Lover.

I am merely a willing agent of romance. Romanced first by my King. Held in the darkness by my King.

In darkness, I do not merely mean in the shadow. He holds you in your midst of your Sommonia. He holds me as I look upon Psalv-Muron. I call his name in the middle of the night when the demons come. When you look at yours scars. When the blood and tears pour. When the tyranny of your thoughts crush your vulnerable heart. He is no less than God Almighty. And he is there despite your inability to process surrender.

I am, in comparrison, nothing.

Give him your gem.

I love you dearest Blackbird.

Violent Seizures and Voices Visceral

Violent emotions overtake my soul. Trapped under the weight of God himself, I pull myself apart trying to escape. With my whole being I dread my detonation.

You may not see from a window, but I have a secret for you. There is pressure beyond nuclear potential, and I have spent the years of my youth devising an ingenious restraint. Years babe.

They hold my hands and they take my romance and they nurture the horror. They just fuck it all up.

Yah gotta fuck it up. Yah just really gotta fuck it up. You can plan and author procedures. You can read the documents and illustrate the subconscious. But Ringo is Ringo. A dream far away from the truth.

Complacency is no longer an option. No one is sleeping in this violence. The men and women of the tribe are bleeding all around me. They wake up screaming. Overjoyed demons are reunited with their captives. God's unbearable weight is pushed upon us, falls upon our souls.

The nature of my heart is revealed here and now. I ache with the Children of War. Their pain is my pain. My soul registers the bloody amputations and the unmedicated surgeries as my own.

I always knew the worst was yet to come. The monster has yet to show its face, but if I close my eyes I can feel his muscles and I cower in our comparison. I restain it all deep within me. I have no need to see his face. My focus is elsewhere. My focus anywhere but where it needs to be. The demon stands right in front of what I need to see.

The unconscious disciple speaks in his language. The demon wants power, the demon wants to be audible. The unconscious disciple makes the desire visceral.

I am drafted to oblige my monsters.

The forecast of supernova is circulated by the tyranny of my thoughts. I loved Ringo. I never wanted to awake. Fact and fiction lived side by side within my mind. Divorce could not ensue!

What is inevitable is inevitable. An eruption of fury, followed by a bleeding of bad blood, followed by a duel in limbo. Then diffusion.

Diffusion. For if Gods unbearable weight split us into splinters, what could remain? That which could not, would not detonate. The pure.

At last, it was revealed.

An Agent willing.

A poet vulnerable.

A child pure.

Canaries and Cardinals

To the Dear Catalyst Canary and The Young Cardinals, my bones burn with a new fire. I leaped into the flume and have found myself on different shores. The home of my heroes, a land of wild hearts and captivating souls.

All my sorrow and all the distance; they just faded away. My lips sang the request and as the grand yearning of my faith was fulfilled...

the impossible gave in to truth. Like a dam under the weight of water, my mind tried to stand against the weight of blood. Blood breaks the barrier of sin. The glass fortress is already in ruins. The blood finds all the cracks and errors in its structure and yet again, my sick haven, is crushed under the blood.

Honestly, I loved Ringo. I admit it. But that is the nature of the children. I admit it, I am a child. I am no man, I am no anchor. I am a child void of blood. I wandered aimlessly searching for Day, and I realize now... I was asleep.

Day cannot be reached by any vehicle of air, water or outer space. On our own accord, by no system or manner can we travel to Day. Only by invasion, only by being taken by the flood.

Blood came through my roof and flooded my room, I had no control of my body, for I was swept about in its manic fury. I awoke with a song in my belly, and sugar on my lips. Birds of every color filled the air with sweet hallelujah. On the ground I notice the blue children. They lay silently in the high grass, sleeping their lives away. I know the children by name, they stay behind me in Ringo, hiding in glass houses, waiting for there own waves.

Blackbird, she is trying with all her heart to wake up. See, back in Ringo, I told her of another world, I spoke the great ballads of the past. I told her, we would see spring, we would drink real water together. She is still asleep. Blackbird, whom I LOVE. Oh, sweet Catalyst Canary, do you hear my call? Ever insightful Catalyst Canary, can you handle it all?

The sommonia is killing her, the lightning terrifies her, the blood tyrants hold dominion over her sanctuary. I'll stay by her side and whisper sweet promises of Aslan's Land, but I am no catalyst. I am no anchor. I am being carried away like Jonah from his shade.

I graphed out the grooves and curves of planet Ringo and now you ask me to chart Day? I know nothing of Day. I know of midnight confessions and the tears of children. I know your children, I know Jack and Maria, I know about the things you say behind there backs. Never forsake a child, because they just might be a child God destined you to love. I know about the blue children, and when Psalv-Muron comes, you're gonna have to rip me from there arms.

The children never cease to come to me. I will venture tomorrow to a new land to meet new children. I am just a boy in this land, I swear, for I know not where I go. I stumble over my sorrows and I lie about tomorrow. Young Cardinals, I am impulsive, so I would ask you to take care of me in my old age... but there is so much to see, so much to be, tomorrow is just to far away. I will always be determined to set the world on fire, for I am burning in the marrow. I am burning in the marrow.

Burn your marrow.

Everytime I hear that melody, something breaks inside. I cant turn back the tide. I await to learn the destination, I wonder if I will ever know the cost. Love came and filled my belly, starvation holds no power over me. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

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Check out "Martha" and "The Heart of Saturday Night" by Tom Waits.

Sanctuaries and Sommonia

The chorus cries out upon us, “Bring us your heart”. I hide in the bosom of a young lover. I find my shelter upon her shoulder. We know the consequences, don’t we? I tell her of my unraveling mind. My heart has no room for my secrets, but yours are kept and collected and put in their proper compartments. Their commissions hang on my conscience. The consequence of wasting time is eternal. For it is we whom make the choices along mortality’s jagged road. Always approaching Psalv-Muron does not wait for wisdom to make its place.

I am to go. My sweet Blackbird cries out “If we announce a problem we become the problem.” Where are we to go, if the blood tyrants hold dominion over our sanctuaries? What are we to do, if every second climbs upon our backs? Whom shall we call to our rescue, when we destroy ourselves? No, I refuse to believe that the answer counters what I know as true love. The hypocrites pride grinds against my bones, and my blood becomes like fire within me. Are those whom are violent, criminals? We live in a world of unanswered questions and men without resolve. Pride goes unchecked and lust is turning every eye black. The merciless fill the air with poison, and when they choke, we choke with them.

We recorded the past. Our mind is programmed according to your movements. Our souls seek you out without condition. We are tied together without condition, by nature, but not by the laws of the tongue. So easily we build unseen barriers around those who call for our aid. In our walls we are understood by God alone. She cried out for someone to come in. Thank the Lord it was his servant. But now that I leave, I wonder if my sweet Blackbird could rebuild the walls. I wonder if the SUMMONIA will plague her house again.

She fell in love with my blind ambition. She heard the chorus cry out our destiny. I am just a carrier of the message that is true. I tell you, it came and consumed me without warning. The message came to be called in all times desperate and as I acknowledged what was true, the numinous came upon my soul. My emotions were not my own and my tears were forced out from hiding. That which was unseen dwelled in me and what was inside peered back at her. Our confessions came only in the madness of our risks. I was told of her summonia. I was told how it filled her heart, till she bled from anywhere she could. I was told how the doctors mistook the antibodies for the summonia, claiming her own defenses to be the sickening agent. I was told of the invasion of a blood tyrant and the betrayal of the other. The blood tyrants had shared their summonia with her.

I learned the grit and the grime of her soul. The summonia is all she saw. I saw what was unseen. Her own fire kept her alive. She was shivering and cold and I took her in my arms. What I saw was an saint unborn. And like every seed, she was made with proper nutrition in place. She had unique properties, that should she be planted in fertile soil, shine with such a white brilliance to overcome any darkness. I knew in my soul a match must be lit. The fire must be ignited. She must overcome. Then, into my own darkness we fell. She was everything I could dream of. I forgot that there was that which existed beyond my dreams.

AND SO, I find myself on planet Ringo. A place of crushed dreams. My rage and my lust and my mindlessness tear apart terrain already in ruins. I see Psalv-Muron in the distance. I have been on Ringo to long, I must drink from the waters of DAY. Day, the world I lived on before Ringo.. A world of real food and real water.

The Champ of Angels stands beside me. He beseeches me, pleads with me, implores me. He does so to take back my name. Back to my home he says. He brings me back to DAY. I take his words, which he brought from Aslan’s land, and I wrap them around my forehead. He brings me cold water to wash my face with. I am awaking from the daze. I am still breathing heavy. But that which is within me cries out to be released once more. The chorus sings into my ear “Bring us your heart”. I cry because I am far from home, because I held her as I fell. The young cardinals see. They sing out to me “look to what is held out for you, you hold nutrition inside of you.” They sing “Darling don’t you see?”

Sing, Young Cardinals for my sweet Blackbird. She will stay with you, while I leave for Psalv-Muron. I put her in your care. You know not of the summonia or the blood tyrants. You know not of our slip into darkness. However I can only trust you, for you are within holding distance to my sweet Blackbird, and you know the song of Aslan’s Land. You know the song of that which brings my conscience back to Day. I would stay, and bring her the water myself, but Psalv-Muron will either take me to Day, or damn me to Ringo. We are helpless without you.

Oh Lord. My God of all things. You made the young cardinals. You wrote the songs. You are the antidote, and you are the catalyst. I am not but a man. I know what I know, and I am at your mercy. Break me down. Take me apart and show me which is death and which is new. Let me drink the water from your heart. Raise a temple in which you dwell, so that when I leave, the children can have a sanctuary. Let there be the water from your heart. I pray this for my heart burns for them; A heart that I give to you. I’m sorry; it was always yours, wasn’t it.

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