Sunday, September 30, 2012

In Jest I Say


A nave of spades, a jack of clubs,
A prince of hearts, a diamond ruff
That overcomes all other studs;
His hair is shimmering black, rough
Are his hands in an attack! Quick
As lightning, and flashy too; such
Is his nature. But like a wick
That's burned down to long, his cold touch
May come on stronger than you'd think
Possible, for such a fine and
Jovial spirit, doth oft wink
To see if you can see his hand!
Slight of hand, trickster by his trade...
And quite clever; his tongue his blade.

On stage we know him as the Puck...
Yet this page is more; he's in luck
To be our dear friend, a fine man.
He always has a perfect tan.
While his bombastic humor may
Affront some fool whom he puts down,
We see him as wise, and today
We come, near and far, to the town
In order to wish him well! Jokes
Are made, and many do tell him
How very much they miss him; blokes
Do shake his hand, and on a whim
He doth look through the crowd gathered;
His smile says it all; we mattered.

So sing your songs, and play your tricks,
Pray to God, withstand them fool hicks
That would treat you like piles of dung...
Give them a run, and their pockets
Do treat with, until they are wrung
From all value; and when all bets
Are won in your favor thank God!
His name ever praise, ever laud.
Don't be a stranger you knave, don't
Forget your friends old Jack, and won't
You be sorry you sad old heart
If you don't act your shining part.
You are a light for others to
See, a light for God; now be true
To your calling, your part. Happy
Birthday to you; now go and free
Those that do need a smile, do hope
To be released from the shackles
That bind them, those foul modern ropes
That are wrapped around, manacles,
Their sad sorry minds. Melancholy
Grips a nation; go forth, set free
All these fools from their misery.

In Jest I say, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Through the Cloud of Glory

I walk down the road, and on either side
Their I find that the toad has so allied
Himself with the merchants that line the streets
That poor peasants flock to their vending seats...

And you too should come, he says with a smile...
I am struck dumb, and shutter quite a while
As I ignore his wide, toad-like, face of doom,
That gapes open wide only for more room
That he may swallow me whole, without a trace
Dispose of me, as a shoal of fish; in that place
I found fear following behind me like a train...
Echoing it's croaking, monotonous, endless, refrain...

My glance is caught further down the road again...
Not merchants this time, but sure footed men
That do holler with voices of varying pitch!
They hoist the sails for a circus tent, which
Fascinates me so that I stop to look...
I read the colors as though a book...

A voice tells me to hurry along,
Lest I become one with the noise-some throng...
I recover my senses with a titter,
A flair of anger, a heavy hitter
At the home-plate...
I am in such a state...

Hurrying along I regain my composure...
The sounds begin to align to the moisture
In the air; which begins to strike the ground
With a composition of music never found
In any other place all throughout the earth...
For I walk through the land of my home, my birth...

And for a moment I am struck so that I am still...
I have escaped the noise of color,
And of merchants have had my fill...
But here I stay for the sound of my brother...
Echoing through eternities open portals,
Through memories found in we mortals...
And I gaze upon the ground in this forest den,
I remember him there, stuck in that wide fen
Across the way where we did play
In the sun, in the rain; we did every day
Become better friends, he and I...
Until the day he drowned, did die.

Then I am a quiver with fear...
Suddenly I feel him draw near;
An icy cold hand, but warm to the touch.
Such illusions of mind are over much
For the senses to take, they cannot
Stomach the reality of what is bought
By believing in such fantasies...
So they take what they see,
And twist and turn it to what they like;
Lest realities hand lash out and strike
Their face with the palm of its hand!
So I found myself, in that dreaded land...

Turn away! Don't look back!
The voice inside said to me...
Come hither, my sister!
Set me free! Said he...
But I knew now, too late,
What I was seeing...
And before my fate
Overcame my being
I wrenched myself away,
From that hand of ice...
From my home, my play...
From memories of nice
Happy thoughts wishful thinking...
I ran from there! What was I thinking?

Barren now are the roads.
Not a person walks them.
Not even those foul toads
That once tricked me
Into fettered slavery...
No, not a single color,
Not a single image...
No memories of brother...
Only a mere savage
Minstrel before my eyes;
Minstrels...them I do despise...

And as I walk along he plays a ditty,
Calling the throng, with a song quite witty.
Yet I could not stand his music at all!
I hated it, and in the dark I did call
To him, to him I did beg be silent now!
But he merely winked, and did bow
As if to accept an applause, an encore!
If I could get my paws on him, how sore
He would be! How very much he'd regret
If ever I caught him; for a touch of set
Anger was writhing through my veins...
I considered going back, old refrains
Were pecking away at my desires...
Little lamps in my mind, rather than fires...
In a maze my mind now wandered
To every place I have since sauntered...
And I wondered where I was going...
Wondered at the point of it all...
Wondered at the wind blowing...
I wondered at the quiet call...

Then suddenly I recalled myself
To my senses and shut my ears...
I could no longer hear the wealth
Of this minstrels ditty, no fears
Were set upon my heart any more,
And the anger took flight, the well
Of frustration became dry, the door
Was shut to mine enemy; I sell
All my treasuries of past loves
To the voice I hear. Gentle doves
Do gracefully lift me off my feet...
I fly over the minstrel; his defeat.

Now these doves do take me high,
Into the darkness, the clouds, where nigh
Invisibility is at work, is at hand!
The ground sinks beneath me, the land
Indiscernible to mine eye;
Confusion now reins, try
As I might to turn my intellect around
To where I had been. I am found
In a swirling mass of terror and pain,
I cannot stop the shivering refrain
That besets my heart, my soul!
I bunker down inside, control
My raging fear; like a woodsman
Desperately fighting the fire
I strike back with my desire
To be safe and sound from this dreaded wind!
The sound of which howls louder than sin...

A song begins to dawn in my heart...
Not from my own memory, in part
Perhaps have I given myself
To this great song of wealth...
Yet it seems that it comes from without
To be within my heart and soul, felt
I that it became one with me tonight...
And the raging winds no longer fright
But begin to sound out the melody...
As if I had received from the voice a key
To ceifer the raging winds of pain
As having spoken out in a refrain
Of the glory of God...
A never-ending laud...

Now emboldened by this understanding,
And surrendering myself, now commanding
That all of my energies be engaged
Into this cloud of glory, this saged
Love that beckons to me,
This loving voice, this sea
That pours into my being...
Can it be true? What I am seeing?
I see light unknown...
I see, as though shown...
I see, yet do I see?
Can this truly be?

I stretch out my hand...
My fears one last stand
Take hold of me before I reach
What I was reaching for, teach
Me to fear what is before me...
Teach this sight is all illusory...
Turn my sight back to the cloud...
Falling down now...how very proud
I am that I realized my mistake...
My mistake...did I indeed make
With my foolish behaviors of mind
A mistake? I hope others may find
Me sound of reason when I return...
I hope I realize myself, lest I burn
With ensnarement from their reproach...
Already I can see on the ground a coach
That will take me back to my house and home...
The minstrel waves at me! He holds a comb
To for my frazzled hair, now such a maze
Of many tangles, a fiery blaze
Of lightening and maddened haze...
O, what strangeness! What a craze!
And to think I had almost fallen for it...
This light, this illusion, this religious fit!
Now the coach is off, and I am in...
I have regained myself, I do win
The game that has been set against me...
I have prevailed, can once again see.
We travel past my home and I sneer
At how once I did travel in fear
Across it's plains, this relic place...
I no longer see my brothers face...
We travel through the circus tent!
How beautiful it's colors! Unbent
Are it's poles reaching to the sky!
I feel strange again; I don't know why...

The minstrel plays a tune that I like...
A hand slaps me! My face does strike!
We enter the merchant lane once more...
The minstrel opens for me the door...
The smiling toad throws open wide
His arms, his smile; I am beside
Myself with fear to see his face!
My brother stands in disgrace
Next to his side, ashamed of me...
I do not think...I exit...then I flee!
I run from the road, I run from it all!
I run through the day, the night, I call
Out to the voice that once reigned in me...
I cry out at night in an endless sea...
I cower in fright at every noise that's made!
I cower in fright, for the game I have played
Has thrown me from heaven so dear...
Into a world of doubt, suspicion and fear.

The hunt is one, they come after me!
They say, come again! Pay the fee
For using the coach which returned you here!
You shall be enslaved, forever my dear!
Do not run into the night, this wilderness;
Come! With us you may find great bliss!
Your unfettered desires may become you yet...
I grantee you'll like it, I will even bet
That once you return with us you will say
I am better off in this place, better off this way!
Come, give yourself up to your lust...
We are your friends! We you can trust!
Accept your pride my dear little girl...
Accept us, we are your dear pearl...

Twisted, deformed, and mangled as I am...
I hear in their words a twist, a mere sham...
I hide in the first tree that I find...
I shall stay here till they go. I have a mind
To remain here forevermore...
I fear I have lost myself, a whore
In a wilderness of stupidity...
My price for doubt, no longer free.
My hair is all tangled, my dress ripped and torn...
I am besmirched, ugly, and forlorn...
My captives surround me on every side...
They smell me out, they sniff for my pride...
Wild wolves are they that now prowl the plain...
No longer glamorous; for to my shame
I had seen them in a different light...
Now I see them as they are at night.
Of monstrous shape, and color too...
I cringe at their eyes, my body drew
Back at the mere thought of their hands...
Groping in the darkness of these dreary lands...

In the shadow of this hollow, this gaping maw...
Where I hide for my sorrow, fearing what I saw...
I pour out my heart to the winds, I do cry...
I pour out my soul, my sins, lest I die...
I know not who will answer, only that I fear
To die without confessing, to be a mere
Of darkness in the presence of the light...
To succumb to this evil, this darkness, this night.
I beg forgiveness, from whom I know not!
I cannot recall who it was that had bought
My soul at a precious price...
I scratch at my hair now covered with lice...
I, mere wretch that I am...
Now contemplate, do dam
Myself in my thoughts, in this place...
I think of nothingness, to be without trace
Of form, without grace of life...
To be free from the pain, the strife
Of fear, the shallowness of air
That with the beasts I do share...

Thus to I raise up with croaking voice,
A voice devoid of water from my choice...
I ask one last time for help from above!
One last time do I profess in love
My hope to be delivered, to be rescued;
And I pick up the knife that is imbued
With bitterness and hateful crimes...
I hear somewhere, far off, the gentle chimes
Of a clock; in a city by the shore...
I had only thought it to be lore
That spoke of such a sound...
Suddenly I realize that I am found...
And the winds do answer me as I stare
Into vacancy, they do answer my prayer.
A spark within is set again to burn...
I suddenly remember, do yearn
To see again the sight of the cloud...
To open myself to his praises, and laud
Out in the dark of the night, without thinking,
The love in my heart! The darkness sinking
Into the dawning day begins to tremble...
The beasts on the field do now resemble
The figures they once were by day...
They retreat to the road! The dawning fray
Begins to gnaw away at their heels...
Bells do sound somewhere, their peels
Draw me from my hollow of grief.
I run over the meadows in relief...
I follow the sounds that I hear in the distance
I cast aside all fears, all resistance!

A tingle in my spine...
A voice calling mine
Own soul...
I am full,
Am radiant as the day!
I climb the hill before me...
And marvel at the quay
That hides near the sea...
Now beautiful is it...
I take a moment, I sit
And gaze at this city of God...
Where men and women do laud
In praise and thanksgiving the King
Of glory, their voices do ring
Out in psalms of joy!
In communion they employ
Each other; and the cloud draws nigh...
I recognize it, this cloud, and I sight
With deep relief...
Letting go of grief...
All my fears allayed...
My suffering stayed...
I recognize now how to love...
In communion does the gentle dove
Come more readily to dwell with man...
I was foolish alone, following mine own plan
With brazen arrogance!
A deadly song, a dance
That led me where none could confirm
The love in my heart; a miserable worm
Was I all alone, so abused;
So very much was I used
Up in my struggle that I doubted it all...
And from the cloud did I then fall...

As I walk down to they who do fill the square
I breathe in the freshness of ocean air...
I turn and speak a word to you...
Remain in love, be ever true
To the one who has set you free
From darkness; who doth eternally
Give you the grace to draw nearer still...
Who will in time give you your fill
Of life, shall fill you with bliss!
If you struggle so as not to miss
The boat that crosses the ocean blue...
You'll receive more than you ever knew.

                   Through the Cloud of Glory, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012


Saturday, September 29, 2012

Psalmedy


Concern abounds as I look across the this
Street of misery and pain; what a bliss
To hear the singing behind, the refrain,
The Chorus against this murderous reign,
So very unlike what falls from the sky...
Even my beliefs do utter a sigh.

Anger begins to gnaw at my side when
Seeing these phonies walk into their den;
Begins the heart to beat twice as fast, much
Too fast to consider the faintest touch
Of the mind with all seriousness. Oh
That I could only, with certainty, know...

It hurts to look at them standing there, sun
Streaking through the cold; the sound does now thrum
In the air like the many snow flakes that
Falter from the skies above. Like a bat
Comes swooping in from the side the mallet,
Destroying their home. It is pains valet...

From the sky I look down to see in flames
Those that run from the storm of bullets, names
I've never heard before in my life come
To mind when I look upon such strife. And
Is this all from a misunderstood word?
Words spread like fire when they have been misheard...

I take it all to the place where you dwell;
Rather than spewing forth such words of hell
That do inspire riots, revolts, and death.
I take it to you O Lord, in a breath
I speak of our need; and what this is I
Cannot say...not for certain. I do die
To consider the injustice abroad...
Do suffer to consider the pain. Bawd
As I do in times of distress I state
My self they servant as I contemplate
The meaning of these things, I ponder your
Word in my heart, lest I should so abhor
What I say to others. Yet you do sit
Upon your throne and listen to my rant...
Which I cannot understand! My dear aunt
Would chide me for behaving as such, my
Parents deride me for trying to vie
With the way things are, my brother would laugh
At my attempt to fix the world with math!
My sisters joke about how much in need
I am of down time, to relax and feed
On the niceties of the earth. But still,
Though they all consider me foolish, fill
Their heads with words as I have done before,
My mother sits in silent tears, and more;
For my father sits in silent wrath, his
Anger kindled against those who do wrong...
Whether intentionally, with song
Of malice and hate, or with ignorance...
Which is for some merely a second rate
Crime...Such are the things I consider in
Time...

I cannot add to the words expressed
By the silence of a mother, confessed
I there and then to my father near
That I loved them both, ever so dear...
That I desired to give them my all...
That I desired to answer their call...
But what to do? What to say? to mankind?
Where are those that love them to? can I find
Further witnesses with which to join
My frame of mind? is there some fair coin
By which we may purchase ease and comfort
For all of those that suffer injustice?
Or are we in our minds thinking of bliss
That comes in the next world beyond this one?
The one that comes when the day is done?

I hear in my heart, a whisper of God...
I smell in the air his presence; I laud
His name in silent admiration, give
Him praise with my thoughts. I know I can live
In this world of suffering pain...
And I'll say it again, the refrain!

I'll give myself to God,
I'll give myself to the poor.
I'll give myself, will nod
In obedience at the door...
I'll speak in silence to the press...
I'll give myself in words, confess
My deeds in silent refrains,
And the world may see the pains
Of the poor as my very own...
No matter what others say...
I'll work until the end of day.
I'll speak of Christ to those who seek
To find the everlasting peak.

What more can I say? What more can I do?
With many words I am still so very untrue.
I can speak and yell until I am blue...
For words are louder than actions...
Shouting out all manner of malefaction's.
Yet the simple act may in silence give
Another the chance that they may live...

             Psalmedy, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Here's Hoping...


I wake each morning with a sigh,
A stretch that reaches a mile high.
I look out the window at the flames
Rolling past me, the countless names
That streak the papers come to mind,
I pray to God that he to them be kind.

I walk down the stairs, to eat of course.
I don't have a car, or even a horse;
Which means that i'm lugging it to work
Before I get fired by my boss, that irk
In my side, that pain in my wrist...
You all get the sense, the gist.

I hear the siren go off again, and again.
Fall down in my seat, underneath
The table; insufficient as this pen
Is I still feel safer, can still bequeath
To my heart some satisfaction
While outside rages the malefaction.

I walk out the door with a prayer or two.
I think of true love, and what man will do
To have just the sight of his lovers glance;
One more night, just one more dance...
My prayer collides with the sound of flames
That consumes the ever higher list of names...

I reach my destination before death can find
My name in the street; God today is kind...
Perhaps says a voice its simply my luck
That I should have been saved from the muck
And filth that swarm the street outside...
Perhaps, respond I, yet I hurry inside...

The shouts and the screams of hurry it up
Do cause me distress; like a mindless pup
That's woken up at the middle of night
I run hither and thither, all a fright.
A single mistake in here and your done...
Overhead we hear an airplane's run...

I nod to my friend standing in the back;
He works with the printer. I with the stack
Of paper feed the hungry machines,
That print with black ink madmen dreams.
For who could believe a word of ink
When one see's that the words do stink...

I offer thanks for getting through the morning;
But ask for protection, lest in scorning
The enemy come to take me away
Into the night, and the endless day.
I start to eat lunch, and again I hear
The sound of bullets, at which I do sneer.

Writhing anger rises and falls with a crash
Similar to the sound of a mortar's splash
Upon the ground, not thirty feet from our place!
The cry of another soul, another nameless face...
I keep working, though my friends do cower...
And my boss, frightened, is no longer a tower.

By the end of the day, all is done, I'm alive.
I continue to pray; on the way home I strive
To keep my eyes averted from the pain,
I hear in the street an endless refrain
For help, for money, for swatches of food!
But I would not help them, even if I could.

I turn a corner, and another one comes!
They rush to get near me, the drums
Of the innocent destroyed by other men;
They seek a place to stay, a home, a den.
For themselves, their children, their wives!
Yet I continue onward, clutching my knives.

Is it fear that prevents me from loving?
Is it pain that causes me to look away?
Why do I keep onward, ever striving
To make it to the end of another day?
Am I lucky where they are not?
Or do I have for a moment, what I have got...

I reach my home, I pray again, thankful
That I have managed to reach the end;
How very sad is my heart, how pitiful
Is the frame of this man. I do intend
To do better tomorrow, if I can.
That's always the hope, the plan.

I sit down to eat, the sound of knocking...
These beggars do come to me, stalking
Me in the streets and at home.
They have no where to stay, so they roam
Without rest, offend all that they see...
For they are the proof of lacking generosity...

The gnawing, the gnashing, these screeching souls
Begin to tear away at my patience, my control!
I stand in anger, I refrain from speech...
Lest I should destroy them like a leech!
Then walking to the door, my heart stops dead...
I hear what they hear, and it fills me with dread.

Laughter in the streets, men with guns...
No more words do come; sudden drums
Do pound upon my chest and I sweat...
How many of them will survive? Forget
Says the voice inside of me, forget them!
Tis but a dream, a cycle of REM!

The sound of gunfire pierces the night...
I see it all as in a vision pervades one's sight...
I sit back down, another falls to the ground...
No more to irritate me; no not a sound
Shall bother me again this night. Not one.
They had nowhere to hide...nowhere to run.

I walk up the stairs at night with a prayer...
Desperate excuses made up of despair
From own guilt wrung out of my heart...
Have I been wise in action? Or failed my part?
The sound of flames outside again...
I am safe inside of my home, this fen...

I go to sleep, I am not afraid of these sounds
That now terrorize the city, these evil lauds
That clout the sky and beat the ground...
I am scared of what inside of me is found.
I am frightened that what I've done
Is not enough to escape deaths conundrum.

I wake in the morning, I offer a prayer...
I open my eyes, and then I do stare
At the ceiling with regret and pain...
At the thought that I have become another name
That none will remember, no none at all...
The sound of the plane is my death call...

I do not run, I do not flee...
I am indifferent. I am free?
I am despairing...I give up!
I am a mongrel, a mere pup!
I am a man without a bone
To pick, a heart of stone...

Learn from me, lest you die of it...
Lest you die where you do now sit...
Learn from me, lest the pain inside
Should grow from wounded pride.
Learn from me, lost love's not enough
To cause you to shun others, to bluff
Your way through life as a loner...
To give up on men, to be a runner...

Now the flames envelope me with a bang!
I feel for a moment the whip of the tang
In the everlasting flames of doom...
I know no more...there is no room
For love, no room for hate...
I am indifferent...that is my fate...

Awake with the fear of God in your heart!
Awake! For today you must begin, start
To act without fear of what is outside!
Let go of vanities, of foolish pride!
Awake! Awake! Fire and sword do come!
Whether you like it or not, the beating drum
Will become your ears or your heart...
Awake...do now begin to do your part...

And love eternal shall be yours to keep.
What you sow will eventually be yours to reap...
Believe, with all sincerity
That you can love, that you can be free...

Here's Hoping...(c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

The Lovers Grace


He woke me with a smile,
Just a smile, so I say.
Come with me for a while,
Into the brightening day!
Too sleepy to comprehend
The meaning of His phrase
You in sleep did wend
About a hazy maze
That went to and fro
Between crocodiles with wings
And deserts on the go
With desert snakes, and things.

He reached out and touched
The tip of your shoulder;
With his hand on the clutch
Of a manual shift car
You saw him in your dreams.
So very very far was he
From you in sleepiness
That you said yes, I'll go;
But paid little attention
To what you said. It seems
That we wish for bed
To be a perpetual devotion;
Instead we have to wake...

He shakes you slightly,
Not too much, every lightly,
As a sunshine ray would
Sneak into the room;
And although you should
Recognize a ray of sun
Shine when it comes, swoon
With joy when it doth run
The length of the earth
To see you in the birth
Of a new dawning day,
Instead you do bay
Out in your sleep.
And he, suffering joy, doth weep.

O beauteous woman, my love,
He calls you by your form;
Such a tender call, as a dove
So early in the morning
Does call out, not in scorning!
Yet deeper into the dream
You fall, and in it you scream!
You call out for him who is near,
But is far away from you; for fear
Keeps hold of you in dreams
That never cease to hold on,
Do speak only of what seams
To say, that He sent you Anon!

Now concerned He speaks,
He calls out your name;
And suddenly you stop; weeks
May have gone by in a stream
Of steady thoughts that gleam
No real meaning, no refrain
That is discernible. Such pain
Is but the memory of a dream,
And opening your eyes at once
From having heard the ream
Of his voice in the echoing
Room you do now feel dense
To have forgotten to sing
Before going to sleep
Of love and beauty;
But rather did weep
To think he would not be
There to hold you in his arms.
Oft this is what causes alarms
To go off inside our heart,
Where they will never cease
Until we acknowledge on our part
That our fear is unfounded,
Our concerns are deceased,
So that from our nightmares
We may then be released...

His smile opens wide,
He has nothing to hide;
You are awake! Says he!
With apparent glee.

No more be the shadows in your heart,
Shaken, and battered, and bruised,
But not destroyed; for the better part
Has survived the fray of the night,
And now His eyes do pierce like a dart
Your soul. Like a falcon He swoops
In for a gentle kiss,
Of such sweet remiss,
Of heavenly bliss,
So that you can hardly miss,
The intentions, make no mind hoops
For you to jump through concerning
How very much for you his heart is burning.

So suddenly, just as the dawn becomes
A reality upon which we do fawn
When we take note of it having come
Without warning, without a drum,
We do take delight in each other's love;
So may we each take, in the heavenly dove,
Delight for each other,
May Juliet's Glove
Be removed from our eyes,
May the sun shine on we,
Illuminating what flies over bounding seas.

Our sight now roams from coast to coast,
Seeing, not seeking, for we ourselves toast
In each other's presence.
This sight, this touch; the fence
Does flee from in a moment's haste.
Nightmares are by daylights ray's replaced.

The Lover's Grace, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

From Within We Go Out


I wake in the morning, I smile every day!
I walk down the staircase into a small bay
Of water that streams down alongside
My person, into a den of lions, a pride,
Of Persons; all their pomp display
Like peacocks that light up the fray
That can be seen going on outside my doors...
And there we turn not...for they are all bores
That do not come from within my house,
Are tiresome, pities as small as any mouse
That comes scurrying in for bread and butter...
An image comes to mind...Forgive me mother.

I sigh in the afternoon from all this show,
I make or I break every man in his woe
Of passion for me, in his desire for my form;
Is that not the idea? Is that not the norm?
I walk through a sea of chandeliers;
And they reflect every one of my fears.
I put on a face as white as the grave...
To these images, self deception, I am a slave.

I frown in the evening, and they think me faint;
They cannot discern within me, nor can they paint
From the signs what I endure every single day...
Cannot understand the question of whether I may
Or may not exist without their company...
Of whether or not of them I may be free...
They laugh at my jokes, they applaud my speech;
Like an actor I turn, the pedestal doth screech
But they take no notice of my pronounced fall,
For it is within! And they are all at the ball!

They go out, one by one; their chains clink...
Inside my soul I scream out loud! I think
How unbearable is this misery, this sham,
This putrefied behavior, this blemished lamb
That baa's in my ear with disdainful glee...
I am blind, I cannot with my own soul see
What I am any more, nor what I should be...
I long to be gone from this place, to be free!

They have gone, I utter a cry that is shrill!
I have had my fun in the morning, my fill
Of elegance and desire;
I have made a great fire
Burn in the hearts of men,
Inflamed many women
Against my person!
Reel the hearse in!
For I shall no more exist in my shame!
I wish for peace, to know my name!

A knock at the door...as there is every night.
Dare I open it? Dare I see this Holy Sprite
That so often comes to cheer my soul?
Who so oft begs me to render up control
Of my fears? These up and coming men,
Like cats, do brush up against me, ren
Der me a broken glass upon the floor
So that my own person craws; I abhor
Them more than anything else in the world!
Yet can the fear of them overcome the sword
Of truth outside this door of mine?
Can I open my heart to Him? Pine
My grief with sincerity and hope?
Overcome this chain? This fashioned rope
That binds me to a life of glittering
Shams that do now in my soul sing
Foul dirges of hams that did defeat
One after the other for lands
That were in their brothers hands?

I faint at heart, my body spent...
My soul follows, and it is rent.
The knock again, once more, again...
I am trapped inside my palace fen.

A voice inside? Or vain delusion...
Perhaps my pride...or such illusion
That would make one hope for love
That comes from without, or up above...
Can it be that the one outside is within?
Already leading me to open the doors of sin?
Desiring to enter formally from without
Rather than force from within like a lout
The doors wide open so that He may free
What I am from what I desire to be?

I walk...towards the door...
Trembling...as never before.
I open it wide...and there I see...
O, I cannot tell you what I see...
Only that it has truly set me free!

From Within we Go Out, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Collision Course


Unbeknownst is she to me,
Much like the depth of the sea.
Unfathomable her mind,
Yet on the surface is kind
Gentle, and meek as the dawn
Before the coming day. Fawn
May one upon such a frame,
As this figure did inspire
One to count the stars and name
Them all as lesser than she.
For one could eternally
See in her beauty and grace;
And such sight did I misplace.
For having seen her I said
To myself I am so dead
As one who is in love, not
Thinking of the source but hot
For what was awakened, made
Blind by the sudden light, staid
From true growth by the sign. Such
Fools do not seek to give much
Credence to the one who sent
Such a maid, but their minds, bent
With previous condition,
To succumb to perdition's
Slow and steady trek of doom.
But hardly had this fair bloom
Been seen by me but she was
Snatched away, and since because
Of this I was deeply sad,
And anger ensued, a mad
Desire did well up inside
And filled me with dismay. Pride
Did become the source of my
Strength and power. And we die
To do what we do for spite
Against the one who is nigh
Nearer than the sign, the night
Becomes darker still for it,
And we are lost in a fit
Of passion and envious rage
That allows not a one sage
Thought to enter our black souls;
Such are we, black as the coals
That have not been lit by love
That comes from God up above.

Yet having traversed from this
Time of passion into bliss,
I now see her beauties grace
From the light of God's own face,
And rejoice heartily for
Her at becoming so sure
At heart of what God had planned.

For like a ship that is manned
By many a sailor's hand
So is her soul in a land
That is unknown to her self;
The captain now is her wealth,
Who stands beside her gentle
Frame, gazing with such full
Attention into her eyes
That her heart falters and flies!
Such is the union I see
Has become her merrily.
Though I see it but afar,
As one in spirit see's God,
I know tis true, though bizarre,
And hope she does now God laud.

And having watched from the hill,
Taken in my goodly fill
Of the beauteous sight that
Fills me with goodness and light,
I stand, I stretch, and now at
Peace do walk my own land way.
As they, this beauty, and her
Captain depart for a stay
Upon the ocean, procure
I a devotion of sorts
With such a friendly cohort.
Our road is long and painful,
For I have known him so long,
Yet my love is, well, un-whole.
But he makes me very strong,
And strikes up a tune. I sing!
So we travel along, make
Merry the pathway of thorns
For love, for the other sake.

And in conclusion my dear?
I thank you, for I do fear
That had I never seen you,
Had I never known the true
Light of God residing in
Your heart, I'd still be in sin
Of a deeper sort, still be
Prisoner to ignorance,
Lost in a boundless blue sea
Of my pride! A solid dunce!

Paths do collide;
In this world we abide!
All sojourn here,
Some in hope, some in fear!
Perhaps we live,
But hopefully we die!
In hope we give,
Lest we never reply
To God's own call.
Some do so much forestall
To answer him
That they must be as dim
As if the sun never shone on their face!
Yet now each has found his own proper place.

                    Collision Course, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Thursday, September 20, 2012

New Wine Skins


What stranger appears before my door?
His hair all matted, his face doth abhor
The very ground he walks upon with a scowl;
For wrapped around his waist is a towel.
Yet seeing me behind the screen of life
He ventures a smile, of pain and strife;
For who could manage any more than this
When from them life was robbed of bliss?
Yet I am apprehensive at best, for sure;
My stomach lurching, I seek to procure
The reason for this strange visitation;
Praying that he be not some consternation
That seeks a place to lie his head;
For such a thought fills me with dread.
But I open the door, a grimace begins
To dawn upon my face so that it swims
With wrinkles, and so is dotted with pain;
A pain within me that reflects his refrain.
So there we sit, speaking without words;
He begging for shelter, I saying absurd!
Are you to come here, to me?
I wish he would drown in a raging sea!
And it doth show now that we understand each other;
That I despise him, and that he reveres me as a brother.
Yet neither of us move, neither of us speak.
To embarrassed now is he, and far to weak
From his condition, the lack of good inside;
And I to angry, to full of myself, with pride
Do administer a deeper scowl than he.
I pray God be not watching, that Trinity.

While we did stare upon the ground,
Without a word, and without a sound,
Some neighboring boys came walking by;
Their noisome attire did provoke a sigh
Of frustration, of annoyance most great;
And now I do consider how full I am with hate.
They did shout out, when they saw this man,
This half naked scarecrow, and whispered a plan
Between one another. Smiles did begin to brim;
Not the smile of love, but the smile of sin.
But took no note of them did the old man,
For his face was to the ground; as a van
Guard to his defeat was his humility,
Stepping backward, off the porch, into a sea
Of foolish taunts and shouts and boyish chants
That made him seem no better than ants
That have been squished underneath one's shoe;
Now the anger inside of me begins to brew.
Then suddenly I see anew this poor old man,
I see that they, these boys, did so plan
In their minds what I would have done;
To have admonished this beggar then run
Away! Taking his towel as well!
I see it in my mind, a tortuous hell.
This indeed is what happened, and damper still was he;
The old man who now was stripped of his towel. Did flee
The boys up the street with great amusement and glee,
While he fell to the floor and implored the Holy Trinity.
Then shame uncalled for came into my heart,
And a dreadful calling did upon me impart
A command, which in obedience I heard.
I walked down the porch and spoke the first word.

Come into my house dear sir, please forgive!
Do not look upon my inhumanity, please live
With me for a while until you have grown
Well enough; indeed such men have flown
That accept charity even after scorned;
They understand the dignity adorned
Within their bodies, their very soul.
So do I recognize, and relinquish control
Of all such pride you saw in me before.
Please, come, enter through my door!
Inside you'll find clothes, a warm bed, and more;
A drink I think, and some food are in store.
Please enter, dear friend, excuse my bid
To win for myself nothing; for I hid
Inside myself like a mongrel pup that's lost
Inside of some tortuous maze, and it has cost
Me more than I realized. Enter my friend,
Come in for a time, my pride do mend.

And looking up at me he said with a smile,
Thank you my boy, I will only stay a while.
I'll pay you back in ways unknown, by one
Who cannot be but generous, will not be outdone.
My master is the same as yours I think,
And so I accept your offer to a drink.
What's more I offer you what I have,
Words mostly, but with these you may lave
Yourself with divine inspiration;
Few have this in all the nation.
I come to you as I am, and I give
Whatever is needed so that I may live.

Then entered he did, into my home.
Up the porch steps, past the lawn gnome.
His scowl replaced by a wide beaming brim
As wide as a cowboy hat, his face did swim
In a light as bright as the sun in the sky;
Such a light did inspire me, though I know not why.

And he has lived with me to this day.
And many others as well, they do pay
Well for their room and board, more than some;
And I avoid a great deal of conundrum
As they work with their skills to repair my house.
Strange it may seem, that I, a great big louse
who wouldn't give in for the world, a souse
Who drinks at night to ease his pain
Would allow such a man onto my plain
Of dignity, and prestige. But I was a fool,
A mere shadow of what I could be, a tool
That was broken in the hand, could not see
How very welcome this man could be,
Until I saw the result of an action,
The result of passion's satisfaction.
And through the sight of another's mistake
I learned to reform, to fix the stage, to rake
It up so as to climb higher still
Into the grace of God, to unite my will
To the King of Kings, and the Lord of Lords,
To place my heart within the treasure hoards
Of the everlasting King, God, man divine.
And now he resides with me, he is my wine.

New Wine-skins, (c) Luke Bennette

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Tis But a Squall


Short and sweet the day may be,
But not enough. Eventually
Spring may turn to summer, then fall;
Then fall becomes a winter maul
That takes the day down to size;
And such a thing some here may prize.
Yet soon the days begin to thaw, and May
Comes rolling round, another day
Becomes the rolling plains of grass and wheat;
Proclaiming winter's death, the defeat
Of snow and cold, the frost and chill
Now flee! the sound of birds doth fill
The crisp cut air that's turning warm;
Prepare we now, an ungodly storm
Approaches fast as lightning gone;
Before it's done the day will be wan
As milk that's left to curd into cheese.
Comes round the giant stormy freeze
To contend with the Spring,
Hail doth it's billowing bring,
Wind and rain to chill my spleen!
But little damage doth May seem
To take from this monstrosity;
It counts it but as little, a mere fee,
A sufferance that must be met
Lest executioners take la tĂȘte
De la pleasure from life eternal;
For this is life, and it is full
Of recompense and little woes;
This storm is but a storm of shows
That vainly tries to fight against
What is in truth always hell bent
To be, has always been, and is...
I guess such shows did business
Only, and no play at all in their lives,
Did shirk love, no hope in their eyes,
Did seek but the goods of others who have made
What they did see as good, but a promenade
Of pomp and vanity that's weak!
That is all a storm is, so to speak.

So in the springtime consider well,
Lest you falter in the storm; I tell
You not a single pain endured for love
Will go unnoticed from above.

When in Springtime you find yourself,
Life seems good, surrounded by wealth
Of friends, good fortune, and family,
Benefits as far ranging as the sea,
Consider well the storm on the horizon;
Weather it well my friend, do not shun
The message it has for you.
To yourself, always be true.

Tis But a Squall, (c) Luke Bennette, September, 2012

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Lighting Up the Dark

A lamp without a bulb, or a bottle of oil,
Is much like labor in the day, strife and toil.
At night you return, your weariness grows;
You try to hide it, but in the dark it shows.
More evident in the folds of the night
Is one's pain, his grief, than in the light.
For the light pardons all wrongs, soothes all pain,
It governs one along in a gentle refrain.
But the dark dispels one's happiness,
Takes away what love would refresh.

Consider then a man and woman:
As one is like to do in his devotion
To observing the natural things in this life;
Consider further that of man and wife.
Consider more so the bulb, the oil,
And the lamp stand weary with toil.
Interchange either one with man and wife,
Know that each, the other, keeps from strife.
Working together they make a whole;
For the design is such that when full
Of energy from the bulb is the lamp stand
Its structure allows for the bulb to hand
Out light to the room, and darkness dispel.
Protecting one from the torrents of hell.
And understand, this light, this gift,
This power to drive back, the veil to lift,
Is given from two, from two is devised;
It cannot be changed, cannot be revised. 
And from it comes forth another, in form
Of, perhaps, a sister, or brother. 
Such is the light, such is the day.
Such is the radiance of love in May.

Consider then the path you are on;
Not with fear, anxiety, but trust in the dawn
That is sure to come with time and patience.
Craft the lamp and the bulb, or oil. Monstrance
Is what keeps the Eucharist upright.
Eucharist is what heals the blind of their sight.

Consider you now, the blessings made firm
In love and devotion to one whose infirm.
Man and woman, both have faults;
But still God endeavors to, from his vaults
Of heavenly bliss, give them life;
Such abundance saves them from strife.

So consider well, my friend, when the dark
Comes around to take away your spark,
Think oft of the one you love, you will see;
The thought of him, your heart is set free.
Together hold hands, though the dark obscure
The love you bear, of that love be sure.
And with it dawn will come, eventually.
Dawn comes. Of that we have certainty. 

Lighting Up the Dark, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Friday, September 14, 2012

La Conquista de mi Corazon per Iesus

What eyes are these that do despise?
My own, I freeze; in my heart the lies
That did once overgrow my walls
Now snare me, overthrow, my calls,
Are cut short, like a knife to the throat;
An evil cohort says that I've missed the boat...
I look up now, my face in the dust,
His eyes upon me, I trace the rust
Upon his crooked knife, and blanch...
The same knife I saw, strife, the ranch
Of my father, my mother burned alive,
My sisters killed, or worse...now I strive
With all my might I shake my body free,
The lies, the ropes, these vines, do flee,
And he, this copse yet still alive,
His eyes go wide! as a bee hive
That's suddenly burst aground; he strikes
His arm wild, a thrust that's sound. But shrieks
As the blow has failed to stop me in my tracks;
His body falls, his eyes atop the wall, the shacks
Around us now falter in his sight, he thuds
Upon the ground, his knife a rusty dud
That's crusted in my crimson blood. And I...
Well...I falter, busted in the chest; I die...

Wherefore did the runners go that cried
Out that a summer storm was fast at hand?
Wherefore did they run? If they had espied
It so as to flee from it as they had planned
Why not did they keep me in their company?
Why did they run? Wherefore did they flee?
Without their friend? Their love? Their prize?
Or was I merely that? A fund to their eyes
When times were broke, and money straight...
Now that I do give in and contemplate
My mysterious fate upon the ground where lies
The enemy that came in force, he whom I despise,
I wonder if they loved at all, these men, those boys...
Who treated love as if it were some child's toys.

Cross that fed me in my straight,
That kept me from my bitter hate,
Why did you see me do this act?
What could have made this into fact?
Realize, if you will, I lie upon the ground,
My body heaves a sigh of evil's making;
I cry to you without a single sound,
A sign that death is my body taking...

Did I act for the right reasons?
Did I this evil blot out with justice?
Will another benefit from my treason
Against the almighty? Will I meet with bliss

On the other side of this curtain vast?
Will I find myself in paradise?
Or shall he look upon me? An outcast?
And throw me like a man two dice?

Shall it all be left to chance that I,
A believer in these things who doth espy
The truth within the scope of mine sight?
Shall I leave others to their death? Their plight?
Did not some other man, or woman, or child,
Suffer from my killing him? This most wild
Fiend? This hound of hell's bells incarnate here?
Why should I from this life take evil's fear?
I've sinned, yes, it's true, and killed many  men...
Not one, not two, not thrice, but ten!
And many more besides these tolls...
As many as fishermen do catch from shoals
That go wandering into their nets from the sea...
I cannot count the number, no, not the tally...

Where shall my cause go? Undefended?
Have I in my rage, and passion, been overcome?
Is my life, that is now dust, ended,
Become blotted out? Like the son when done
Is time and the earth itself?
What shall become of my hidden wealth?
My store of courage, my passion for Love?
My desire for sage? Yet I did shun the above
By my act of anger, my wrath and my hate...
Or did I love him greater? Was it the weight
Of the deed done against me that set me free to strike?
To save some poor sod, some woman, child, from the pike?
Who judges all when this life is said and done?
Certainly not you, or me, nor some politician...
And seeing once more before my eyes as I rest,
My head upon the ground, this blessed earthen crest,
I see a boy, smiling back at me, his face aglow,
The love of God his eyes did show.
But looking down I saw that red did spread
From inside the maw did spread that dread
That strikes many a man down to the ground;
Yet his face was angelic, his brow a crown.

And I ask myself, could I have died like he?
A martyrdom? What is that? This fee
Seems madness, lunacy! Daft! Bonkers!
Dreams, sad quests! Empty of treasures!
Yet still, in my head, a song plays on...
Was it this song that led me to this promotion?
This death in the sand? This avenging of men?
This return to the ground in dignity, in peace?
For as I lie on the ground I feel a great peace...

But do I die? Ah! How strange...
For I wake up, where I was, on the range...
The eyes of woman in my sight again;
They fill me with warmth, inside, hidden
From the cold chill of the world I've come to know...
They give me what's real, for the world is but show
To the invisible reality, the justice inside our souls...
God, who trains each of us as young-ling foals.
Her eyes widen, her lips part wide...
A smile upon her! This I have eyed
Since I was a boy in the plain of this land...
But many a man, or boy, may yet understand
How woman's affection may heal rot, disease;
How a Mother, her son, by her sight may please.

Thought you that I spoke of the sex?
Perhaps, but no. And this doth perplex
You. For you do not know Love as it should
Be known, nor even as it is understood
By our souls, by our body, by our eyes,
Don't you see! Love is not in the words,
But in the way we act, our heart flies
At the sight of one truly beloved, and swords
Do part with their sheath to protect it from hoards
That would seek to part them from our sight...
Such was my anger direct, my hatred...my plight.

Returning again to the dust where I lay,
I see the child searching my eyes,
I look again, and he's lying in hay...
And I can tell his face holds no ties;
Not for anger, not for love, but indifference...
That's worse than the rest, for it means once
He did love me greater than I loved him...
My love is reflected in him, my love, and my sin.

Cry I out to him, forgive me my Lord?
A boy...Ha! Simmer down say you,
For I have lost my wits to call a boy, gourd
Fat ling child in a pile of hay, as true
God and Man...
Ah! But I plan...
I plant to overcome your disbelief, your pride...
For I once held, as you, I did hold inside
All that doubt, confusion, anger and hate...
Now I beg forgiveness; freedom from the spate
That drove me into the wilderness of hell...
I long for the sound of an olden church bell...

Where is the rider that galloped apace?
Where are the guns? Heard as in a race?
Where are the sounds that do fast approach?
The sight of the child, smiling, a cross is made...
The sound of an oncoming frenzied coach
Is heard in the streets where my body is staid...

Darkness falls upon my eyes...and I weep.
For I feel deadened. What ties me here?
My indifference, my gluttonous fear.
For the hill I trod upon was too steep
For me alone to climb without God.
I ought to have praised, sung up a laud
In thanksgiving for having tracked down my man,
Rather than having given to pride; such a plan
Might have gone a long way in saving me from his knife...
I might have lived to tell the tale, avoided this strife...

Danos La Paz...I hear in my head...
Danos La Paz...I hear, to my dread...
Danos La Paz...I fear will not save...
Danos La paz...I fear the conclave...

Fast approaching, with limberness, and lithe
On the wind, they strike up; the sound of the Scythe,
I bow my head, not seeing a thing...
I know, to my dread, what my actions bring...

If I believe...does it do any good?
If I do not...does it mean that I should?
O God, do come, with your might rip free
From my wretched soul hell's grasping hand.
Let me not die in this dreary place, I plea;
So far away from home, this wretched land.

And suddenly I see again...
The face of my mother...
And it brings me much pain...
Tears in her eyes for my offense...
Words that speak of recompense...
Wordless, voiceless, merely her glance...
Her eyes a light, a living monstrance...
Then touching my wounds with her hands she sighs...
Sudden pain, and light in my eyes, the replies
Of voices, and sudden return to the earth...
Her face fades away as does the warmth from birth.

I lived to see another day...
Men came and took me away...
They healed my body of sore and pain...
But my soul is wretched, and the refrain
Danos La Paz...Is still in my head...
It fills me with tears, self pity, and dread...

The years go by, the war is over now.
The man has died, the ruinous sow
Has become a memory, nothing more than a dream...
Do not dreams come alive? And make you scream?
I hold my own on my ranch with my wife...
I try to hold back, stay out of the strife.
But the peace that once held, the battles once before,
Now threatens to turn, like the wind at the door.

I look in my heart and see her face, Mi Madre,
And through her, her son. What can I say?
I vow obedience to life for others now.
Though I don't know when, nor do I know how
Time should deliver me up to Her and the Son,
I know I shall bow then, and then I shall have won.

                        La Conquista de mi Corazon per Iesus, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Thursday, September 13, 2012

To Walk or to Sprint?

A drop of gold, pale as the morning sun,
Foretold of old? Perhaps, but not yet done.
The speed of light, with ease she walks,
Far from our sight, congenial talks
Are held between you and I,
As we run too and fro, lest we die.
For overtaking our position, where we do stand,
Is a dark cloud, undone we are, and demands
The cloud that we enter into it's depths;
Yet we run ahead, away, through the clefts 
Of the cliff we hide ourselves, away.
Pressing forward, always, towards the light of day.
And in this run, this sprint, this pace
That keeps us moving so fast apace
We grow accustomed to one another's sight,
Speaking little as the conundrums bite
Becomes plainly visible overhead;
That darkened cloud that inspires dread.
Yet in the silence, the stillness of heart,
Is where a true friendship may begin, may start.
And as we both run towards our goal, the Son,
Both race towards the finish line, where is won
Eternal salvation, and freedom from the cloud,
Where forever we may, our God, adore and laud,
As we do this, as we move forward still,
Our sight begins to dim, and until 
We see again we are threatened anew
With the stormy blast, the cretin brew.
Our senses fail us, we forget each other;
Though in truth we be sister and brother.
Then reaching out to the silence let us see,
And then we shall find, in each other, harmony;
Enough to finish the race and then some more,
To give to others examples, to implore
Through our silence a hidden strength inside,
One that's stronger; a fen, hidden pride,
Becomes our talk like clothes we've adorned;
And with it we falter, we fall, and are mourned.
So even as the sun is obscured up ahead,
And we do seem to be left for dead,
Do not fear to run on, know I am with you, my friend,
In prayer, in Love, in devotion, to the end.
Sense my silence, sense God's presence in me,
As I surely will in you, as in a boundless sea.
Continue to run, run hard, so as to win!
Avoid that dark cloud, stay far out of sin.
Believe in what you desire, desire what is good,
Forsake not the light for some vintage hood.

My friend, you are the sun to those who have not seen,
Do unbend yourself, do sum up yourself, what has been
Is no more, what is to come is still unsure.
Trust in God, and your life you will surely procure. 

                      To Walk or to Sprint? (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Electric Garden

A twang filled sky comes to mind tonight,
Comes a string quartet with all their might,
And silence dawns, a breach of grey light,
Then stands the figure, we hear delight,
A melody, soft and sweet to hear,
A melody, beautiful, and yet queer,
A cross between a doe, a young deer,
And the snarling dog, which you do fear,
The stalk of a predator, his stare,
The taste of his eyes, the standing hair,
Electric waves do crash, like a snare
In the forest that lays waste, lays bare
The intimate feelings of your soul,
Tears one apart, and yet makes them whole,
Thunder crashes down on earth bellow,
One wakes with speed, and a lightening show
Draws many a face with eyes to know
The sound of the sight which they now taste,
It draws them to the dawn with great haste!
It makes them wonder, light and sound laced,
Into a thunder, this dark figure.
So now they are drawn to the white dawn,
They see the silence light now upon
This figure who holds in hand so sure
A stringed instrument, a guitar blur...

What words express long lasting friendship?
Can it be a dull word? Or must it be a quip?
Can it be expressive, or must one word do?
Can it be hidden in something like a shoe?
Must it be in strange poems of light and sound?
Or can it be within a single sight thus found?
Does love become a moment, or a day?
Or a year for that matter? What do you say?
What words describe what always remains?
What expresses the joy's through sorrow's pains?

Enlighten me, O spirit of understanding;
Lest I too my words, ignorance bring.
Let me be shown the words that I must speak, forsooth!
Lest I speak to my friend, anything but the truth.

And in the end what shall I say to him?
But that I am thankful that with him I swim
In a myriad of mystery's, a plethora of thought,
A time of many memories, which our time together bought.
And I'll consider myself a dull witted friend,
If in time I forget, and shall hope he will mend
My foolish mind that forgets so easily,
And from my foolishness may my friend set me free.
Yet no matter the time that passes by,
I know, and so does he, as surely as the sky
Is blue without the clouds to obscure it,
That friendship is more than speedy wit,
More than the talent of a guitar in hand,
More than the words spoken, rehearsed or unplanned,
It's more than clever words put down to pen,
And more than what society say's of men.

What is friendship? I haven't a clue.
Yet strangely enough, I think what is due
To follow from a friendship is certainly time;
And that love from history creates, shapes, a rhyme.

So I see the dawning rays of light,
That bend from the guitar, this figure of might,
I hear in his song a thousand melodies,
A thousand moments, many memories,
And too hear the sound is enough to keep,
One from despair, such that he may weep
To hear the sound of a gentle breeze
Playing upon the golden crisp leaves.

For hidden in the realm of the invisible sight,
Is the greatest beauty one can behold.
And in the waves of sound our souls take flight,
Turn warm as day, transformed from winter's cold.

That is why friendship is invisible.
Because one cannot see the union of a soul...

Now I listen to the sound of my friend draw near,
He calls out to me, and I know, I have nothing to fear.

                         Electric Garden, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012