Monday, February 13, 2023

Medieval

My body is an iron maiden, sharp
And pointed pain that pierces through my back
And legs. What? Shall I slide down this rough scarp,
Attempting to escape my body, rack
That wracks me, in the hope that other pain
Will wrestle me onto another plain? 

I wrestle in my bed with no one, throw
The blankets as I turn and writhe and groan
And turn with tight-backed movements they made slow
Until the aches and needles throw their last stone
And I am pushed into a sleepless sleep
Discomforting my night until I weep.

The pain of spirit and the pain of mind
Arose and were resolved and humbled me--
The pain of body now has joined to bind
It all. How shall I be an escapee
This time? The badlands stretch and crumble down
Beneath my feet, beneath the star-dusk gown. 

There's a brazen bull that bellows through the night
And keeps the mind awake--I fail to pray
No more--I am the prey of pain's delight
In being senseless, pointless. It will flay
Me, try to slay me, but I will not slip--
The scarp is steep--I live upon the tip.

Monday, February 6, 2023

Finding a Place

What shall we do with this young man--at ten
Much more a man than men twice, thrice his age--
Who plays a manly rock-n-roll--his pen
Has written lyrics showing manly rage
Against the dying of the light--no less
Opposes womanly pop music--he
Will build, create with focus, fearlessness,
Declares all rulers "suck"--anarchic, free.
But where shall he emerge into the man
That is his destiny? This culture will 
Declare him toxic. Focused on his plan,
Perhaps he will ignore and then fulfill.
This boy who loves his father was born for
A balance made in music, not for war.