To Him They Belong

Down to sleep
their souls to keep
Vulnerable
innocent and meek
Shaken … in shock
Grim trauma that seeps
out from the gutter
to reap
Below life’s glitter
where mothers weep
for innocence shattered
beyond all hope
Watch out now
Take care
Beware
Given enough rope
all things dark
and fearful
… into the deep

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Where Beauty Resides

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Where Beauty Resides

The bells of liberty
by your stockings rung
The deepest restraints
in my hands … undone
Like a flake of snow
your sacrament melting
upon my thirsting tongue
Quenched in the ocean
of love’s perfection
Down on bended knees
lost in the squeeze
of your wholly communion
To ride the high tide
of hard won freedom
Yet, I’m a captive slave
to your will being done

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The Tower of Song

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To find truth
without faith,
love and hope,
like trying to climb
Mt. Everest
naked, without oxygen,
or even a rope.
Not saying it can’t be done,
but man,
sounding like a clang!
Or have I found
that love thang?
Try as you might
to sight the heavens,
like pointing a microscope
to the skies
from the dire
mire basement
in which you’re standing.
Far better, in the light,
seeing the world
through heaven’s eyes.
Holy Mindfulness
is the place
where we all belong.
As Leonard Cohen,
he’s moving on
to the Tower of Song.

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