(mostly high school and earlier)

I include this only for purposes of comparison, so you can see what a difference Y'shua has made in my life!  As far as poetic quality goes, it is obviously no more than you would expect from a depressed adolescent who wished only to be the child of Edgar Allan Poe and Emily Dickinson, but who had the talent of neither!




Silver dagger, weapon of the Great God Atol, glowed like the brilliant morning sun.  Used for wicked and vengeful purposes, killing the innocent, reveling in baths of blood, the silver color changed to gold.

     Silver flashing in the sun,
     Blinding with its sinful light --
     Flashing 'til the day is done,
     Then glowing cool within the night;
     Flashing, glowing, every flowing
     Down the Stygian out of sight.

Golden sword, of no use to Dead god atol, hated by the murdered slave-folk, was locked within a dungeon deep.

     Tell me, such a thing of beauty,
     Can it long forgotten be?
     Can its wealth and can its duty,
     Hushed beside its revelry,
     Crushed forever, how dissever
     Such a dream of majesty?

The Sword, by anvil altered, lies in the dungeon a chain of gold.

     Golden chain now 'round my ankle
     Holds me to the vault within;
     Weeds and worms and hair entangle,
     Tie and bind my soul to win;
     Calm I lie here, soon to die here,
     Payment for all worldly sin.




How dull to walk the meadow green,
With mocking flowers and gaping birds;
But rather, where I have not been,
Seeing sights I have not seen,
Where thoughts replace all words.

I long to find a lonely place
Of lichen, mould, and moss -- unknown;
Where every creature has no face,
And I can set my own time's pace,
Where I can be alone.

I hate the stifling thoughts of Fun,
For Happiness is never gained;
And Truth is used by everyone
To lie and cheat and call their own,
And yet they live -- all chained.

Elusive, too, is Charity ...
It "frees the soul of sin and hate";
A joke!  'Tis but a mime I see,
All shielded by hypocrisy,
And zero is its fate.

The people are an evil breed,
They love to see the morning dawn;
Each day they do some godly deed
To hurt each other -- souls unfreed,
But soon, they'll all be gone.

I'll never hear their lies again,
Their laugh will bother me no more;
I will escape this hell of vain
Deceitful souls, I'll shed this pain
And search for woods of gore:

Where lichens hang from ghostly trees,
And fungus-plants are all about;
Where mustiness is in the breeze,
Where ghouls dwell and werewolves wheeze --
Once there, I shan't go out.

I long to find this lonely place
Of lichen, mould, and moss -- unknown;
Where every creature has no face,
And I can set my own time's pace --
Where I can be alone.



If you search you cannot find it,
Hidden in the evening fog;
Only strangers, deathly pallid,
Coming to the silent bog
At the crisis of their horrid
Lives, can find the fateful drug.

The final cure for all life's sorrows,
One taste lasts eternally;
It grants you peace, and yet it borrows
From your soul -- mortality.

For once you come upon this lonely 
Valley, through the awesome dark,
Its claws ensnare you, and the only
Light is where the Hell-worts lurk.

Rotting bodies make the air thick
With a choking, musty smell;
But the odor makes no soul sick,
For your thoughts no longer dwell
In a human frame -- hypnotic
Forces rule your mindless will.

It is not "death" that lies there hidden,
Nor some drug iniquitous;
But rather, these things are forbidden
In this realm of sleeplessness.

A state of mind is what you find there,
Life anew and without end;
Your body dies, and yet you linger
In the barren, stagnant wind.

You become this swamp of lifeless
Life -- your thoughts become its guide;
Freedom from your dry and joyless
Days among the souls outside --
Truth and quiet, no more restless
Hours, for to the world, you've died.




Twinkle, twinkle little star
high up in the sky so far
how i wish you knew my name
so that you might feel the same
if i ever get up there
i'll have to wash my underwear
wouldn't want ol' god to see
anyone as small as me
guess i'll have to comb my hair
and dress up like a millionaire
so all the stars up in the sky
will laugh and gossip, way on high
and if i knew the president
i'd ask him what ol' satan meant
when he told me that i'd die
before i reached the starry sky
but that i could join his crew
in a minute or a few
guess i'll never understand
why he needs another hand
or why the sky, so full of light
wants another star so bright
but wait, i think i know it now
it didn't even want the cow
so i'll jump back upon the moon
and catch the dish that's with the spoon
and then i'll fiddle with the cat
and when i'm finished doing that
i'll close and lock the door real tight
and get in bed, if it's all right.
i know that i won't stray too far,
so twinkle, twinkle little star.




     i took a journey thru the dark
         last night, when near asleep;
     i took a journey thru the dark
     to where the vampire leaves his mark
         and there i fell asleep.

     i looked around at what i saw
         last night, when near asleep;
     i looked around at what i saw --
     the mummy's shroud, the werewolf's claw,
         and then i fell asleep.

     i crossed a river red with blood
         last night, when near asleep;
     i crossed a river red with blood
     to where the fiery cyclops stood
         and there i fell asleep.

     i drank a nectar filled with death
         last night, when near asleep;
     i drank a nectar filled with death
     and then i breathed my final breath
         and then i fell asleep.




i lost myself
and walked a long, long way
in search
loneliness was there
where i looked
and sorrow too.
i traveled down a rocky path
a crooked path
a path tortuous and long
and all the way
i heard
the call of lost people
looking for themselves,
so many
and all lost
like me.

i found religion and looked there 
to no avail
i found romance and tried once more
again to fail

on and on
i searched through life
until one night i found myself
beside a languid lake of calm
it begged and beckoned --
i complied;
and slowly, slowly,
in the calmness,
late at night when all was still
i sank beneath
and all was still
(at last, i thought,
i've found myself)
and at the end of a life of search
to find myself
i lost myself
to death.


a courtroom drama in three parts

I.  The Evidence

the rain is trailing down the last
abandoned cars left on the street
and everyone i meet is gone.
the wind is blowing, and my feet
are swollen
though there is no heat to make them sweat;
but only wet and cold and dark,
and cars unparked just pass me by.

so on i go
alone and cold and walking down the long and lonely street
just watching cars that pass me by
while i go on alone.

oh, is there no one who will take my hand
and help me as i go my lonely way?
and is there no one left to try 
to understand another's loneliness?
then must i walk along the lonely way
my thumb extended
hoping all the while to find someone
to give me shelter from the painful rain
to cover up my head from cutting wind
to light my eyes from darkness all around
will someone ever stop for me
some day
or must i keep on walking, all alone?

II.  the verdict

what i desire, then, i suppose, is this:
to ride along another person's road;
to never walk alone, on my own road,
but hitch a ride with someone else
and share his wealth of happiness --
to ride along his long and lonely street.

instead of getting in a car
and driving on my own.

III.  the sentence

being such a one
i am condemned forever to proceed
along this lonely route --

i must, for all my days, hitchhike 
along the wet and cold and dark road
always waiting for someone
to pick me up
and give me shelter from the world

and i will never drive the car myself --
this is my punishment.

my punishment for being such a one
for always looking for another's aid --
so must i always seek another's aid,
and never able to progress alone
along the long street;
just to wander on
my thumb extended,
hoping all the while to find someone
to give me shelter from the painful rain
to cover up my head from cutting wind
to light my eyes from darkness all around;

and someone everyday will stop for me
to take me just a little way along
the long and lonely road;
but never anyone to take me far
or fill the void of loneliness from fear --
but just a little ride with someone else,
forever always someone else's road
and someone else's car
and never will i drive the car myself --
i am condemned forever to hitchhike
on someone else's long and lonely road.




The night is calm and quiet
As we kneel before the moon;
And the crickets in the garden
Seem to hum for us a tune
On their ancient-golden fiddles,
Like our ancient-golden cult
Of Akhnaton, the high priest-king,
And Akhetaton, the vault,
Where the symbol of proud Aton
Lay in refuge from all light
Until a vision showed itself
Within a dream one night;
New high priest-king but a child
Will now lead us from all pain,
For Akhnaton's name has risen
And Aton gives life again.




I woke in early morning
And the fog was all around --
It shrouded earth and sky and leaf and
Smothered soggy ground.

It told me of a secret then
That no one else would know
Until the noise of life awoke them
From their Sleep of Woe.

I thanked the morning dewdrops
For informing me this way;
They saved me from the shame of facing
All the world today.

But life will learn my secret --
For when day peeks in my bed,
Its light and heat will set me free and
Show them I am dead.




I once did have a happy thought --
Dear Lord, I loved it so!
I cherished it like I was taught,
I tried to make it grow.

Each morning found me pond'ring it,
I questioned what it meant;
It summoned my entire wit,
Yet still would not relent.

And so I let it slip away,
My mind would not give in;
For if I could not find a way
To understand, I then

Would try to shut it from my mind --
A stubborn soul was I,
A foolish soul was I ...
For now I long for happy thoughts,
And not a one can find.




When lost in recollections of the past,
I often wonder how my youth was spent;
Did I, when but a child, my fears keep pent
Within a lonely heart whose pulse beat fast?
Was I enthralled to see the fiery blast,
Before the thunder rocked the clouds that sent
The lightning streaking through the firmament;
Was my poor soul with horror then aghast?
With trouble I recall those lonely days,
A shadow veils all visions bleak and dour;
I only know my mind is in a daze
When I behold the lightning's awful power --
I stand and watch it set the sky ablaze,
And then regress to childhood's lonely hour.




How stealthily the fog does now appear
And shroud the evening sky in mystic gloom;
Putrescence oozing from an ancient tomb,
It permeates the human soul with fear;
The stellar heavens now seem burnt and sere,
Awakened harshly to their dreadful doom --
Alas, as if from out its mother's womb
A child were dragged, at birth, to greet its bier.
I see a fiery slit of light emerge,
An amber-glowing crescent to enhance
The evil grayness in its morbid surge
To murder all that lives; yet one last chance
For life is granted -- though the fateless dirge,
Resounding sadly, casts a lurid trance.



I wander down a lonely path
Towards the Fate which comes tomorrow;
And Time, alone, can break the spell
Of unawareness to the sorrow
That awaits me at each turn,
To the danger that lurks before me,
Waiting to devour its prey;
But I am blind -- I cannot see.
I am ignorant to Nature's warning,
I take no heed of her sorrow,
But wander down a lonely path
Towards the Fate which comes tomorrow.



     Sunbeam, dancing on my wall,
     With you I have no fears at all;
     Though life be hard and so unkind,
     When I gaze on you, I find
     I have no secrets -- you know all,
     Little sunbeam on my wall.

     You are mine and mine alone,
     For no one else have you yet shone;
     Upon you life has never frowned,
     Your spirits never touch the ground
     As do mine -- you comfort all,
     Little sunbeam on my wall.

     I live from day to day to find
     You flitting on my window blind;
     With you, my soul regains some hope,
     When I am with you, I grope 
     For some purpose -- you console all,
     Little sunbeam on my wall.

     All through the day I watch you, bright!
     Then oh, so slow, approaches night.
     I see your form grow faint and gloom,
     I see you leave my wall -- the room
     Is covered with a ghostly pall ...
     Alas, no sunbeam on my wall!



"The Twelve Months:  November," by Alphonse Maria Mucha
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