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

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

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 tête
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

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

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

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

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