Supernova
for Emily Dickenson
Our fear would shutter us in close to the edges, but far enough away.
Yet now, we lay together in virgin Amherst darkness.
enmeshed in a
spider web of fear
shall I
can I
break ?
You smile as we spoon out life, lip to lip silly whispers and gibberish
we feed each other on surprise
and narratives wonder...
the
Clowns of Cervantes Shakespeare's Fools
Creation of
Gerald Manley Hopkins...
Yes, this is the beauty
the past change
beyond
Pax Romana
Endless Monodrama
"Here, please , This is where shall we stay !"
Oh that is what you say
No
Seek not restraint yesterday or today
from this world of men.
Let us immerse
or
at least rehearse
for am I not
the center
universe?
"No No ! "
You cry
"We must never leave this room again for
man's blunders ... they will never end".
"I too will disappoint"
After vows proclaimed
I will roam
a strutting animal
in fields...
Dominating
defecting
marking my space
where I can be king,
or pretend to be
"I must go somewhere far from here, Emily , my dear!"
Your swan neck quivering at the speed of stars
Releases your voice
of refrains
Steeling up you
proclaim
"No - we must
Wait, Listen, and Praise
Where we, wrapped in rags
We will meet dangers
give birth
to our own
private universe
Yet legions of angels
will pronounce
"Do not be afraid.
I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people..."
Mary
ran with eyes closed
as only a 15 year old runs,
eyes closed, repeating over and over
"...Let it be done according to thy Word"
Joy bursting
rushing her on dirty roads
to bear destinies from
"A kingdom that has no end"
Magnifying
not herself
but endless self emptying smallness
Elizabeth, feel your belly
as the mother you your Lord is here
Both wombs leaping
held briefly
in Lords short
keeping
Zechariah finally speaking
Twined in joys
Histories mixing cocktails
where love fails
Cherrying out over
crosses and nails
The Vanity of Verdun,
The perfect
Order of
Auschwitz
The faux "Year Zero"...
in the Killing Fields
The pathetic imitation
of new beginnings
Pol Pot
wiggling to
Cambodian Rock
in front piles of
eyeglasses , bones
and books
Rice fields stained with hopeless looks
Must all our new beginnings must kill someone?
Yet
the Supernova of Love, is still exploding
through the centuries
Making New Worlds
From the
Ever ever ever
hard ways of men
Our false transcendence
Endless recriminations
Scarlet letters burn on all
parading in our
cheap flee market stalls
Oh Sacrifice, Oh Revenge
The torn flesh, the banished brother, broken promises, Unfaithful Pledges
Pride Unbending
Oh Emily , yes death kindly stopped for thee...
After you listened to your fathers funeral at the top of your stairs.
Together, now we lay
open faced oysters
Models of modernity
enshrined prideful
banality
Clinging to each other in a desperate judgement bed
longing for forgiveness
in our embryonic dread
Yes, all is
Excellent and Fair
you say
Throw me a poem
Emily D
Cast a cold eye
on what is worst in me
Tell is slant, but tell it true
That one man loved the flawed part of you
The
cosmic explosion
still glows
through the centuries
Staining
Remaining
Even Reigning
For man in his proud murders in deed and word
in neglect and abundance
In both yellowed sun
and dark skies
Alone or under mothers watchful
eyes
We also maim
for we too
were not named
in loving tones
Legions of Angels
still foretold
That love's glossy
Centerfold
is ever new
never old
Still, the Red Bird Sings
The gavel swung, court almost applauded.
I was gentle stranger to this legalese ,
"Your Honor" pompously dissolving bonds
Love , life's
Sui Generis
fled, hiding under a pile of death
under dirty sheets in a
man's bed.
Still the red bird sings. As my entrails now used as violin strings
Still even now, the wounded boy ran blind as toward a mother ahead ... my tender feet bleeding on sharp shelled river bed . Streaming raspberry staining the white shells, Jackson Pollack's masterpiece of roads everywhere
How did Mary choose the better part. Faith, that brave and courageous art -
Oh hold me, I chant,
I will not to listen to Jesus’s nails clanging a catchy tune
rattling in back of my car.
As the the world’s rockstar
Banged on his cruel guitar.
Dreams flayed out
Skinned-
Me, Raccooning across the universe
my fur clings to anything that will have me
lingering now and again
on
burnt sugarcane furrows beginning green
This the opposite of Genesis
A perverse photosynthesis
A germination of decay
"the cracked vase breaks very easily" Montaigne knew then gave up everything.
Still the red bird sings. As my entrails now used as violin strings
Jesus looks out, from the Shroud of Turin,
There is love stained by a cosmic love light ...
So I tailored this cloth, strutting on my cat walk on the world's runways
glowing in misfortune.
.
Lost but seeming certain. a drag queen of new beginnings
My latest fashion, yet worn since the foundation of the world.
Oh proud ones laugh & pity Jesus too knew the stench of sacrifice that vomits in public sun for reasons they say
“better that one man die”
Stones flung wounds the thrower and thrown the born and unborn.
Salons in Hollywood, the queens tittered
with mocking glee, the expensive
merry go round of furniture and wives is rearranged every every two years.
Still the red bird sings. As my entrails now used as violin strings
Lord, you love, are love and Loving more still Loved,
you hold me
But Lord, please
give me new heart, but something other than flesh.
To falsify beginnings and endings rings a false bell
that clangs and yells.
It is living in hell.
My daughter's eyes now with red seams
Sewn by hands each night
by hands not their own
My Hands
An uncertain gait,
A gimping limp
The hurt, far gaze,
Lost direction
Oh Lord, how cruel is
The eternal reprisal
Lord you gave me too much love well.
Never let me fail again
Lord, love and heal them
love them as they grow
let me die to myself so they can live.
Let the tin clang bang in their mind quiet & flee
And peaceful arms cradle their babies
Knowing they grow in earth and manure, help them to create life beyond what they were given. A Virgin birth of love...
Yes.. take the high road sir,
Rome is still burning Sacked A honeycomb of good intentions and histories not able to overcome... let us remember
still
The
Sui Generis
for all eternity
is love
is love is love is love is love
is love is love
So rare until now
Ancient cave markings show lynching of the lame, the outsider, derelict, a son
Anything to blame
to mark and maimed as so
just to be dominant
On the wall, young antelopes who loved too much and ran to slow
Yet slowed for a time to
The hobbled of prey of heartbreak of murder
Painted on cave walls is murder
Paul Klee
without a childhood
A base pratique scratched with human bone , blood and minerals of modernity
Still rare as pearls
the Sui Generis is love
Hello
Dedicated to to my beloved brother Matthew Kevin Scallan, who after teaching me to read with my dyslexia, encouraged me to write when everyone dismissed me. He died a Prince, opening doors for others as he hobbled in hallways of horror for 4 years.
This site is about the power of words and stories and is dedicated to helping "Deconstructing Babel" and the Empire of Evil.
To the Jesus the True King and his saints who inspire and comfort me.
And mostly my children... who mean everything. I will love you till time means nothing.
You know who you are.