Virtuosity is great Skill in Music, or other Artistic Pursuits; while Flair deals with Style and Originality. Together they make Poetry tempered by the flair of nature in an effort to overcome mediocrity and so traverse the path of those historical figures who displayed virtuosity.
I strain my ears as you speak the babel,
A necessity born of the rabble.
I grunt and I groan, inside my frame shakes,
Hearing muddied arguments, my heart aches.
False reality leave me now for good!
That I could escape you, I surely would...
But having gone up the mountain to flee
What falsely is seen, I am truly freed;
Yet know also what is necessary
(To return to the rabble, and so plea
The cause of truth, with gentle clarity.)
And so now you know, for knowledge the fee
Is service to others eternally
That they may, as we do, thus truly see.
In life we see but one struggle; Man's search for truth, in full. Yet only through strife comes he to conclude That within himself he doth still elude The dreaded answer which he seeks to find; The truth is already within the mind. And so we see in many men, Whether eight, or nine, or twenty times ten Years of age (in youth's or strong veterans) The inner struggle which inside us spans. A wide variety of characters and choices; For the struggle takes on many such voices. But if man seeks to overcome this drama He must take a hint from the Dali Lama, From the Pope, from a simple hermit; But first he must himself be open and permit The hint that has hinted within his soul,
That single voice that is the whole Of what mankind seeks upon the shoal Of eternity, the landmass of this earth; It beckons from across the water's girth To walk towards life and give up death. So in the drama we are of life bereft Because we find the answer and still forsake it, Upon our golden answer we foolishly sit. Ill content and ill at ease with what is offered We listen to the drama that is proffered By our senses and confirmed by our reason too. We struggle to answer the voice that is true, We stop short of happiness divine And day after day in a drama we pine. One day we are young, the next we are old. One night we pout and another make bold. Yet we never acquire what it is we seek, We are too broken, to tame and weak; Unable to give our all for what's worth. The answer we seek is a new rebirth. An exit from this drama we play, And into a communion with each other. Pray What is the name of this voice that we hear That wills to be heard through the chatter of fear? It is true character from which all the rest Find their fullness, in it they are best. So struggle on if you will, but as for me I shall give in to the epitome Of character that is made free. Thus the conclusion of this drama is known To be in Jesus Christ, which I hope to have shown By these words that have come before; Now you must exit life's struggle through the open door.
Exit the Merry Go Round, (c) Luke Bennette, February 2013
Knowledge is power? That's what they say. When did power become, so to say Someone smarter than another, say More than is needed? Knowledge will say The way you will be greeted by say The masses uneducated; by say The people who you care about; by say The politicians who smoke you out. Say You know everything so to speak, say That you have come to a peak; but say You've gotten there, what then? Will you say What you know? What have you gotten? Say You know all things, but do you have love? Say, I bet knowledge comes from up above; say, From God, who's perfection is love. Say, Do you have love? Or know what it is? Say That knowledge is power, what next? Say That power makes you less perplexed? Say, Isn't there more to knowing what is? Say... Believing and doing what's rightly known? Knowledge is power, as I hope to have shown.
The Apple and the Snake, (c) Luke Bennette, February 2013
Grief bourne of pain upon the back of man's faint mind Cannot long hold up, as man surely finds. Pain born of grief holds the man's mind in check Impedes his progress, and doth the mind peck! So torn between what is and what could be Adds to the weight of a man's misery, And lends truth value to the parable; Don't turn your head when your hand's at the plow. But if such things should cease to be resolved, Then grief continues, a pain that revolves Around and around, causing darkness fast; Such as the moon. But darkness cannot last... And light returns again regardless of The mind that ignores that beautious love. So bear thy part, and when the darkness comes Listen to your heart, the beating of drums That echo inside your memories clear, Listen for the sound that will abolish Fear and trepidity. Ignore what's false, Let unchanging light of eternity Echo inside of your mind, and so be free To reach out, back towards God, eternaly.
Are you awake that you should shake So violently upon your bed? But foolish thoughts such as these Are meant to be the food thats fed To a man that's delusional, A man that's only partly full, A man unwilling to be sure; Thoughts cannot the answer procure. For though I think you are asleep, And dream on in eternity. Where else are dreams to take us to? Than the realm untouched by what we See with our eyes, hear with our ears; For it reveals to us our fears, Hopes, desires, our faith in the love That still fires our hearts (doth renew). Then say to me, awake my friend! Do not remain there, do not end Your days before your time has come. Return to me, and before you Wake knowingly search and take from Your dream what you sought while awake; For else dreams are but dusty shelves, And are as wanting as the stake That's got only martyrs ashen Remnants about fires cold remains. Yet the one whose sought out in dreams What he's searched for in life and claims Understanding of what is seen Beyond the senses of his waking state Challenges what was his own fate. For though violently he should act When wresting with worries of life, His dreams afford him this small fact, Knowledge of how to end his daily strife.
I see a picture of myself and you, Our friends, our company, all true Men and women who are bound to us; They are our confidence, our trust. I turn the corridor, no longer in my sight Are those that I do love, my delight Is now plunged into the icey abyss; Having lost my friends, have I lost my bliss? But then you come back, and so do they, Have I been lost? If I have then may I be lost again in time and space? How shall I navigate, run this race, Without you constantly at my side? Who shall boost my ego and pride? Then I realize you cannot be for me, What it is that I need, can set me free.
Whatever did you see in her, This vixen of chameleon eyes? One second she's sure, and true, The next she will your heart despise. But of yourself, what do you possess? Are you your friends possession? Or can you not humbly confess, By means of a candid confession That you are in fact your own, And are warring with yourself; Discomfort with friends has shown The value man holds for temporal wealth. For we cannot posses our friends, Cannot make them as we are, Cannot know what he or she intends, And yet we still believe it to be bizarre That we struggle under the weight of expectation, And even offer bitter refutation And blames of condemnation While we express our own consternation, All from the false belief that we are not ourselves Unless some other within our heart delves. But fate and fortune are but one thing, A ring of changes while our eyes do see A blessed light, our ears do so ring With the sound of the eternal sea; So soft and soothing can God be. And when he is allowed into our hearts, We posses ourselves through him, All disparity from us departs, And all our friends seem in us to brim With the light of God diminished By their burdensome sins, for which he bled. Can this vixen offer to us stability For which we seek in others, can it free Us from what's hampering our sight? No, only by God, by his power and his might Can we become what we are meant to be. Loving, kind, obedient, and truly free.