Category Archives: Poetry

The Storm Tamer

You are the victim of your captain’s tongue.
Beautiful, huge, luxurious beyond words.
The most magnificent ship in the world.
“I don’t even think God could sink this ship
If he wanted to.”

The journey sets forth with all but the fiery
coal piles that drive you.
You are born ablaze and die extinguished
With the cold ocean that devours you;
And the fetal words of your captain swallowed
By the aging Proverb that lives through.
“Pride goeth before destruction.”

That mountain of ice is dead ahead.
The fountain of hope has kept you from
Reversing the engines and
Steering clear of the facade of your loss.
You have been racing at full speed with
The fuel of human egotism.

His hand is cold with the energy sucked
Away from his human body.
And he retires at the back of his floating pulpit;
Kept in the company of fishermen.

The still, deceiving calm of the sea:
a beat resounding the pacifism of Galilee.
The cold valley air funnels across the sea,
and it rushes to meet the warm wind of peace
To sign an agreement of violence:
The perfect storm.

The hasty winds and the seismic waves,
And all but the weary hearts of men
And the table top skin of water that once was,
They yield in disarray: Defeated.
The tongues of fishermen: Defeated.

“Don’t you care that we’re perishing?”;
Cried out as the lightning strikes
and the light sweeps across the raucous scene.
The light kindles the tired man at the stern.
All of man’s efforts obscured.

“Peace. Be Still.”
Nature starts to breathe, and see,
And hear the words of this man
Who has warrant over
The engines of her assault.

Where is your faith?
Hidden inside the metal frame of the Titanic?
Switch seats from within this luxury boat
And let the ocean devour you for all that is
Earnest to mortal sufficiency.

The heart is a stern for the Captain of fishermen.


It is the Blind Man Who Truly Sees

Every other storm passes by;
A timid raindrop for every little speck of
Hot Concrete. Overburdened;
Witness to the living ingrate who devours
The essential, thrashes the bones;

A graffiti of footsteps
Disappear in the oculus
Of the one-eyed king’s slave.
Every other storm is an excess
Of hell; A dislodged fulcrum;
But indeed, a mirage in the desert
Of Sun-schorched avenues
And kindled nerves.

But even as the bipeds walk,
the fire dances to a dissimilar beat.

Ode to the increments of back street!
A song engulfs your echo
Of a sky that falls back into itself.
A parade to the pace of a million smiles.
Hope becomes vision.
Vision becomes truth.
A version of Truth comes to light,
And smeared shall the next storm pass….

I’m staying.

You started to breathe and the wind blew against it,
But you battled to show that you won’t back down.
You opened your eyes and in an instant,
The chorus ascends to a lively sound.II
The sound of blinding hope that your blood will choke and strangle tides,
And feel stronger when your hard-pressed life form tears in your eyes.

Time slows down to the fear of living each dilated second
And losing ground, as your peers
Devour every single gold-plated door in existence.
Doors that are more than just a way in,
They are a way out.
Away from your skin.

Inviting you to breathe your last,
To start exhaling your past until you reach the handle
And turn your saddle towards the opposite direction;
Your back against the stained canvas of hard work and hard luck,
Where dreams get stuck to a slow-moving pace;
The charity of haste approaches.

Your legs carry you as far as you desire
If, against you, conspired plains and not mountains.
But hills are like fountains, they hit a certain peak
And go down, to a level of mystique and assurance
That you christen, ‘Hope’.

Live by hope, and Stay.