Thursday, November 29, 2012

Seeing Music

Music to mine ears...
Keeps away my fears.
Dancing too and fro
Makes me want to know
Why it is that angels sing?
Why in them doth ring
The eternal song of God
Which they hear and laud?
For in hearing they speak
They comfort the weak,
And are turned back again
To the creator when
Having spoken their song
Comes a ringing gong
That signals the King
Is here in the Spring.
And so music doth ring
To me like a spring
Of water in the desert
When tempted to desert.
It doth shelter the soul
When the body seeks control.
It makes glad the heart
When struck by the dart,
The chalice and cup
The sufferance sup
In which we partake
When with hands we do make
The sign of the cross.
Our souls do cross
The chasm of pain,
When we utter his name.
So is music the sting
Of medicine to my flesh
That will my soul bring
My body to confess
How much I long for him
Who doth remove my sin
With a single glance
Even as I sing and dance.
Music be my remedy
When all else that I see
Has lost it's mystery.
Eyes look to the sea
That music can be,
Lest you dwindle away
At the passing of day.
Listen my heart
To music, the art
That is seen by the ear
That takes away my fear.

Seeing Music, (c) Luke Bennette, November 2012

Saturday, November 24, 2012

The Mind Engirthed

Lithe be the scythe on a Monday morning,
A Trifle tad slow to Neanderthals.
I girth myself with a belt of leather,
When in circles I listen to the calls;
Dizzied their putrid effect on my
Mind's memory, stifled by this affect
Of monstrosity known as lady sigh.
By what means does a mean slow man protect
Himself from the stare of a pincing girl,
Set upon him in the gripping snow? How
Shall he deflect her piercing gaze? O Earl,
You have nowhere to hide! You are a sow,
Backed into a corner, the knife is raised
Above the sun's blinding ray's and it falls
Swiftly like the dart of nightfall; unfased
Is she who hunts you, as you in your thralls
Of pain and agony call out to wind,
Wind that is unsympathetic to your
Dire need, that struck you down. For you have sinned,
And though no man advise lady sigh gore
You in the side with cruel hate, no man
Will disuade her from her spate. The small girth
Of her arm heaves behind her a great fan
Of hatred and spite that brings a furies
Delight, the anticipation of mirth,
The flurry of a snow storm as flurries
Begin to accumulate on one's brow.
So has she lifted up her bow to smite
Your ear with memories distaste, a frow
Upon her eyes of bitter spring that light
Up as she contemplates your inmost being
As snuffed out from the universe she walks.
So shall any man who seeks her, or talks
Of seeking her be put down by his sin...
If in seeking her he does not seek to win
Her heart along with her beauteous
Form of pearl and golden sheen.

           The Mind Engirthed (c) Luke Bennette, November 2012

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

To A Friend

Cool and slick, all ease is his gait. Hard
For men and women to appreciate
A man when he fails, but the cool hand bard
Is able to hide his ails and put fate
Behind his back. Strange tales he tells, while lard
Slips down the gullets that do contemplate
His quips concerning drunken sailors. Ward,
That be his name, yes that be he; first mate
Of the Capitol Danny Fee that's shored
Up in the Aegean Sea! Some do hate
To see a man so liked at table, board
Up their hearts to decency; second rate
Is their smile, their grin is grim as a sword
That's been unsheathed before a fight. A spate
Be sure to ensue since the door is ate
Up by their presence, their girth. Yet a ford
Is easily waded by those that slate
For themselves provision; and such a guard
Does mister Ward always have on hand, bait
By which he may turn his foes. He, unmarred,
Exits the building as water a grate,
His enemies none the wiser. A card
Up his sleeve he always has. But the yard
Is cold now, the silvery moon is late
To rise, and the sun is long gone. A chord
Of music is heard from the throng. Such bait
Can hardly be ignored by one who’s gored
By interior sorrows that are stored
Away, untended in the light of day.
There in the freedom of man’s company
Is another man capable to see
That he’s not lonely when he has his friends.
In such company all sorrow, pain, mends.

And so I wish you a happy day,
Wherever you are, on whatever way.
I hope you enjoyed this poem of mine;
But if you didn’t, well, that’s all fine!
May your style never grow slack with dis-ease,
May you always know just how to please
The heart of your audience with a treat;
Of healing laughter, now that were a feat
Only a few have managed in this world!
May you be then, laughter’s Herald.
And when in need of laughter yourself,
Don’t forget that an actors wealth
Is found in the friendships that he makes
Within the world he lives in. He so takes
To both make believe and reality
That he is truly happy, and truly free.
That is my prayer for you good friend.
Good day to you, good night. The end.

                   To A Friend, (c) Luke Bennette, November 2012

Monday, November 12, 2012

The Current Current

When asked what life I am leading today
I responded in quite a refraining
Tone. Because I cannot escape the fray
That is present in me. A refraining
Groan escapes my lips from time to time, sighs
Of frustration do become my heart strings
As I harp on my failings. A mile high
Wall as sharp as broken glass and knives sings
Merrily as it advances towards me;
Like a hare caught in the chase do I feel,
Already caught between the forest sea
And the weight of my fear's and of my zeal.

Yet when I stop to look around me I
Cannot help but laugh! For I found once in
This way that the hounds of hell in fact die
When I do not fight back against them. Sin
Is but an escape from God when a great fire
Is raging up within the soul. I wink
At those around me when I do aspire
To take that exit before I do sink
Into the abyss created by flames...
But having realized that my God names
Men and calls them to be,I realize
That ignoring my fears will set me free.
There is one fear that I must keep near me.
One light by which I will fight the great sea.
That is a fear of loosing my God, that
Fear that I should fail to laud out to him
Who has created me, has freed from that
Chain; a chain over a chasm, a brim
That seemed to close for my comfort. Thus
Now do I realize how foolish I
Do behave at times when I do espy
A fear from afar! When closing in on
It I do say "how bizarre" that I should
Think so much of this thing, to think upon
What is merely a ring of false beliefs,
Such recognition allows sweet reliefs!

I walk the flat of a narrow blade,
Between God and nothingness, am staid
By false fears and expectations from
What I seek, which is God. Conundrum
Two is that I do at times clamp down
Upon myself with a heavy frown,
And such behavior is not comely;
Tis a chain as much as fear. I see
Now that between the lines lies laughter,
At myself for being so serious.
I see outside there is a gaffer,
That tends to my lawn and yard; which prompts
Such tender emotions, thankfulness.
I see in the poor a heart of pain,
Which draws mine own into the refrain
Of compassion and mercy for them,
Of whom society speaks to condemn.
And in the end I smile with ease, as
She who did receive forgiveness from
The great and mighty I am, Jesus.
I hear the words, Go and sin no more,
And contemplate once more on the thrum
Of my heart beating with life giving breath...
I live my life for Christ until death.

Betwixt laughter and seriousness
Is the love of God which doth bless
The heart with happiness and mirth...
Which doth give to man new life, new birth.

Betwixt the stride of man's intent,
And the wavering will of his consent
Lies God in the mix, guiding both;
Who ever guides the tiller north.

Betwixt the Navy and Army
Lies the Marine all in green.
He does both for love of country,
Is willing to give from the spleen
His emotions made of glass,
And of his head the will to pass
Through fire and dungeon,
Through sword and gun,
Through every declension
By which victory is won.

So betwixt these fears and these sighs,
Betwixt these strides and many prides
You'll find me walking with God, my teacher;
Who finds a way to make me sure
That even in my mistakes I will find
That God still loves, still pays me mind.
And by such a teacher do I learn the task
Given in the previous lines.
No drama, no pretend or make believe,
Do I undertake in all of this, no mask
Do I put upon my brow filled with lines.
Rather I do relieve my inner self
With the greater portion of wealth
That comes from illuminating rays
Of God's purging mercy found in day's
Long enduring strike, it's piercing eye!
At the end of it all I will so sigh
With relief that I did cling to God, my belief,
And so be joined to him whom I do love,
Who is in heaven, my sweet God above.

What more can I say to assure you my friend
That I am as I am? Am on the mend?
I cannot, because we both still live.
And thank God for it! Since we may both still give.
So I'll keep on talking, and hopefully you
Will be there to hear me when I am blue.
And likewise I'll listen with a trumpet in ear;
Lest I should not what you have to say hear.

Then let all things be done, let it be!
Strive forward with a shrug and see
That there is no such thing as enemy
Unless it deprives you of God's mercy.

No more will I say.
Silence must bay
Out what is within;
Lest in speech I do sin
To speak forever,
Thinking myself clever.

Listen with me
To the sound of God
Within the sea
Of the world we trod...
Listen with me
That you may see...
The ray's of eternity.

                 The Current Current, (c) Luke Bennette, November 2012

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Words Must Do

In truth? I am unable to speak.
Why? For fear that words may appear weak.
My words? Well they are only a streak!
Within the past now gone is their peak.
It is the present now which I seek
With all it's rose pedals intact.
Yet the winter to come makes the pact
Of words wither in truth; tis a fact!
I, no matter the frost that will come,
am by future mystery outdone!
Whatever words I use to descry
The soul's beauty will go so awry
In the end that I should rather coat
My answer with the naked silence.
For in the quiet man may gaze so
Piercingly and yet not pierce the frame
Of woman. By such a silent show
Is the man by woman conquered. Name
One man who ever did enter in,
To the eyes of woman, who has made
His way back again to what he had been?
                                           For before...
Man saw woman he sought out the door
That would lead him to his salvation;
Yet wherever he went was he staid,
By drunks, gamblers, with debt was he paid
As he gave of himself to find God...
Then he saw her, he pushed past the bawd;
For her he forsook men, was outlawed
From the old way's of restlessness. Won
In woman's eyes the piercing delight
That slew his malicious heart; such bite
Was a gift, in order to heal his sight...

Such contradiction is what I face,
When with words a woman's form I do trace.
Then do not be angry with my lines
If they speak more of man. For he pines
For completion, having been alone;
In you your man will find, he is shown,
A source of love and a reason to serve,
That he may no treason commit. No swerve
May be found in the steps of a man
Who found true love of God through woman.

Then keep close to God O woman so fair.
Remain in him, and so by him prepare
To lead your man in God's loving ways,
Since you know so well of all his plays
You are well suited, apt, for all days
To direct the soul of one who loves you.
And are challenged by love to be true.

May he for his part give you his heart
As a ransom for your love; in part
Because such surrender's necessary.
Else a woman is chained, she is not free
To love her man however he may be.
Then keep no secrets when you have wed,
And keep each other's until you are dead.
Together wend the path to God,
Place upon his alter your human laud.
Ask often for each other's sake
That God give you courage for the stake
Of fire that will burn in your souls;
What is instilled within, embers, hot coals
Of his burning love that sustains you both.
This is my prayer for you, my word, my troth.

                                         Words Must Do... (c) Luke Bennette, November 2012

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Beyond the Sign

Wherefore art thou O Liberty?
Where among the shining sea
Of coast-lands and mountainous range,
Of Prairies and of plains? What change
Has occurred to make thee invert?
Or has illusion merely hurt
The name of reality
By changing what we now do see
As that which constitutes our liberty?
Wherefore art thou O land of the free?

Free you may be to vote your side,
With anger, and hatred, and foolish pride.
Liberation you will proclaim!
Then sides collide in a most profane
War of pestilence and plague,
A great smattering, like some rotten egg.
All in the name of love you will act,
For brother and sister, your pact
Will help every man! O foolish pride...
Why do you seek to take me for a ride?

Where were you when I was in prayer?
A smile on my face was there then...
Do you proclaim yourself a hate slayer?
O Liberty of men and women?
Do you understand yourself at all?
You who are proclaimed by many?
Or do you rise and fall
As the desire's of men for honey?
When honey is all gone then bitterness come...
My liberty will be nothing but conundrum.

Do I protest a particular sight
Among the sea of people that I see?
Not at all, though I fall from this height
In order that I may allow them to be.
Yet if they should come to me bearing gifts,
I'll deny them, for an angel sifts
For wheat like a miner sifts for gold;
I do not want their gifts, I will make bold
With what I have remaining at my side...
My faith is my liberty, my pride.

Wherefore art thou O fair Liberty?
You are no more as you once were.
For even from sea to shining sea
Displaces the water's that were once sure.
So I'll not fuss at the sight of change,
Even if change isn't change at all.
I'll still walk the heights and the range
Of American soil in the fall.
And if you should see me, I'll wish thee well...
My friend, and twice my friend is my foe!
I'll invite thee to speak to me, to tell
What sort of Liberty is in line with your toe.
And if you should strike me, well, very well!
I'm nothing you see, I did everything sell
When I went into service for my Lord and King...
Withholding nothing, not even my ring.

O Liberty, I thank you.
For you are what makes me true.
I see your beauty and I align
As best I can to your sign.
I do not cling to thee though,
Since you are not the end.
But rather I brace my bow...
To go around you my friend.
I end my journey at God's side,
That is my hope, my foolish pride?
But whether foolish or not one must admit...
Everyone follows the name of Liberty
They do not allow themselves to sit.
And whatever Liberty guides this sea
Is one that will eventually be
Gone, gone, no more, we'll be free...
Since change is the sign of eternity.

                 Beyond the Sign, (c) Luke Bennette, November 2012

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Play, Play, Play...

Play on I say! That whatever play may
Serve your purpose or your fancy today
Will at least give you joy; which is to say
That it should and it must if it is true
To it's origin within me and you!
You see friend, play in it's seriousness slew
Those skeptics, doubters, and all nay sawyers!
Put to work men of action. Now lawyers
Do seek to define with exact censures
The meaning of the word play in our lives;
Yet they, by their words and in their fair jibes
About how play is nothing but bee hives
While the true value is hidden within
Fail to realize their folly, their sin.
That in their statements they do seek to win,
And so are at play with words and phrases,
Just as a child who walks through hedge mazes,
As a teenager who goes through phases.
So play on they say! It's of no concern
To we who act in reality! Burn
Your lives away with meaning drift! Turn
From what's good and worth living in this world.
Yet they by their actions are the herald
Of what it means to play on. For their sword
Is their tongue, just as a boy's is plastic,
Their comb is law, which is so elastic
That it is part of the game to make stick
The most unreasonable judgement's. So
I ask you now, don't play with me! Show
Me what you mean, guarantee me to know
What it is that is play? Reality?
Illusion? Or some high born fantasy?
Never mind! Play on! Sail the rolling sea
Of confusion well ordered by man's play,
The many forms, or the norms, of the day.
I will discover my answer in May...
When I've unraveled the mysterious play.

                     Play, Play, Play, (c) Luke Bennette

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Answers Without Questions

I cannot be true to the person, I
Cannot be. In essence your frame cannot
Be understood by rhymes, words alone. Be
You some sort of vegetable? Are you
A strange Bunny? or a Bonny lass? A
Man cannot understand! what is woman?
True to my wit I have written this, true
To my promise to write out poems to
Those whose age goes up a year; and to those
Who are to celebrate with such friends who
Are dear to their hearts I will write bizarre
Poetry, or songs. What is poetry
That it should make such an impression, that
It should be so profound to the soul? It
Has but a rhythm and a jingle, has
No more meaning than is given it, no
Purpose other than to be read, to pose
In the place of the real deal, essence in
False advertising for that of which false
Speech is made for the sake of comfort! Speech,
All speeches, makes for a dull time, and all
Our hearts do long to escape from the hour
Spent in the company of one who spent
Entire years trying to speak true. I tire
Of speaking about a thing. For what of
Such a fine person that I address, such
A picture of love in a fair dress, a
Light in her eyes as she see's with the light
From God and of God that illumines from
The Depths of time itself all we see, the
Ever present mysterious shiver
Made so clear in the meeting of eyes, made
Apparent to me in this person sent
With the purpose of simply being with
What we know is our own being from God, what
Can be said by us? What said by us can
Fully articulate this fair beauty?

For though a standard may be said to be
What allows us to judge what we see,
This much I know to be very true;
That God is present in me, and in you.
Then happy heart, know of my prayers
When in time you hear the taunts of nay sayer's.
And offer a prayer for me as well...
Lest I should forgo heaven, and end in hell.
I bid you farewell now my old friend...
Until we meet, at some, at the end.
Or is it the beginning?

Answers Without Questions, (c) Luke Bennette, November 2012

Thursday, November 1, 2012

One Man to Another

Where will the worker of steady hand
Find work enough to fill his mind?
Where shall the husband find bread to stand,
If not from his wife in love's kind
Embrace...made bitter sweet by slow times
Melodious roll, by this endless rhyme?

So should the worker steady himself
If he has no one steady to love him?
Shall a husband employ all his wealth
Upon others if full to the brim
Is his barn with the spoils of his crop?
He should, lest his heart should die, and he drop.

I don't know how to say it, or why it
Should matter at all that I say at all
How very happy I am for you. Wit
Has no rhyme worthy of a union
Between the working man and his woman.
On such a day as this season of Fall
I wish you well; today, and the long haul
That you have ahead of you in marriage.
And latter, when pushing baby carriage
Perhaps you'll look into the eyes of she
Who stole not your heart but countered its pull
With a mutual giving, one soul to soul...

Whatever the times bring to you, do know
That the body pines for a true show
Of what truth makes known in the bitterness
Of life's military march. Distress
Will be a pillar of life upheld by
The steady heart of the one who works long
Hours, in days when he'd rather not.
And the lovely song, or beauteous sigh
Made by lovers becomes a stronger song
When they work together rather than rot.

So if you wish for the glue that's needed,
The cohesive that bonds two together,
Go to Christ in prayer, not conceited
But with contrite heart, a love that is sure.
Know that the love you bear him will cement
The steady heart into a steadfast trust,
And as surely as the floor will not dent,
Nor the bar betwixt your love will not rust,
So too may you count upon the work of
Your hand, and hers that stands beside you,
To draw you closer together in love
To God; you both, to each other, will be true.

              One Man to Another, (c) Luke Bennette, November 2012