Monday, October 29, 2007

Like the Blob . . .

. . . it looks to cover the planet,
penning every heart to read
or lose to rain+, uncaring.
This place of bloggetry,

next stage of poetry which
dried up in dust of culture,
become irrelevant in debauchery,
who call unto dance+,+ & destruction . . .+

"White bird in a golden cage" . . .+
"Hurry high, butterfly" . . .+, +


Tuesday, October 23, 2007

All our lives and . . .

. . . no caring leaders; heaven shine your light down.
I'm not the only one, I hope, but
someone's next and won't know it.
Can't help them against advancing avalanche
of utter hate and murderous hearts . . .

I want to help, but you have to really hurt for it,
heart panting hard in deep desire for what's real,
of things not physical, emotional, even mental.
So then what's really real . . . ?

. . . only that which deepest desire for truth
can find, because nothing less is wanted
of what the world has nothing of . . .
in no care at all of truth it hates . . .

in deepest, hateful passion against few . . .
who have deepest hearts of caring and
compassion none can follow without hurt
of love and desire for nothing less than . . .

. . . truth, no matter what, and . . .
. . . no back doors here . . .+


Thursday, October 11, 2007

Depression calls . . . ,

tears well up. I try not to answer . . . ,
knowing I'll spiral down again . . .
Here it comes..., can't help it . . .
Gotta' move..., gotta' get up . . . !

But it won't let go. Panting against tears . . . ,
hoping it won't go any lower; and then . . .
I remember helping my friend when she
couldn't help herself at the very bottom.

Seems like giving in is easier.
I know better..., but sigh in relief,
tears still rolling down, then
I think of you reading this . . .

Can you possibly see it, the panting . . . ,
the catching of breath against it?
If you understand, I do..., and . . .
if not, I can't help you . . . ,

but there is One Who can, Who
brought me up from even further down,
before, than I can tell you..., without . . .
Be glad you don't know,

because I prayed for you while
there, not knowing I'd rise . . .
to help anyone who could be helped,
against the scourge . . .

depression hauling you down . . .
for reasons I can't tell you . . .


Saturday, October 6, 2007

Closing rank

Perhaps you know already of the sorrow,
unshared so long, sent on webbed wings
as bread upon waters, with little return.
I didn't want to hurt, but to break hearts,

that joy may be seen beyond the veil
few this life will look unto.
Hoping you'll see the desolation & turn
away toward the broken heart you need to

break yours in the best way, making sure
your joy'll never be lost in this life's dead end.
Close ranks, heart to heart, joy sharing joy,
sorrow sharing sorrow, tears gathered of Heaven.

Found greatest joy, and deepest sorrows,
learned to walk razor's edge between, overcoming
with faith sure enough to be carried unto
third Heaven, next on to new Universe . . .

. . . by arms of Whom sorrows knew best.


Without warning . . .

. . . I shared bi-polar anguish seven years.
Didn't know Jimi Hendrix, only the music.+
First wife couldn't be understood;
decades later second was best friend,

then understood perfectly, in deepest anguish,
worse than being mangled in a wreck.
Now I know I was drawn to them, because
I'd seen deepest sorrow, and highest joy, within.

Concerned to draw another, I stay myself;
but hold not back compassion, for theirs
is greater than yours, though you think not;
their love, too, deeper than you may want to know.

By sorcerous potions, drawn away suddenly, under
spell of lithium+, paxil/prozac and a dozen other "sundries."
We best friends, then lost of each other,
love of closest friend ever, gone . . .

. . . in distant haze, doctors and family uncaring . . .
and faith lost of compassion between dearest friends.


Friday, October 5, 2007


…been down that garden path (now enfolded)
that you still enthrall, in withheld wonder.
…understood those depths and greater
that would drown one in anguish, or deepest epiphany;

and you hold back, fearing what should be loved.
No, not that, this, that you know, already clear.
Unfamiliar, you shy, when it could be yours,
exulting, without anguish, in great revelation.

Piano of Evanescence plays, in great persuasion,
and you look out of the glass onion, not into,
to greater, without, from even greater within
that you don’t want to lose, of deepest meaning…

…sought for longer than you’re able to remember,
while odd-numbered, palmated leaves entrance…

…you in their garden, a zombie.

--RK, 10/4/07
   [Check out Amy Lee’s lyrics here: +]

In love perfect…

…I mourn for what had been,
on a far saner planet than here.
No fences and many, many who cared deeply.
Friendships unenvied by such as this sick society.

I mourn for what I knew and can’t find here,
when there, was no thought of even looking,
when it was ever at hand, heart to heart,
on that planet of platinum, golden rule of love.

I mourn with whom sing of my heart here, unknowing,
crashing me down in deepest of sorrow,
but here for final reasons, for few who have sought
and found what, easy there, was only found in suffering

here, where I had to come, to help in hope
that faith wouldn’t die for the most precious,
whose hearts, in cruel crucible, hardships many,
would soar higher than ever, in answer…

     …with overcoming faith in love perfected.

--RK, 10/4/2007