by LJ Frank
all is calm, all is bright
the lyric of intent misunderstood
the pawns stand
appointed squares
knights, rooks, castles, kings & queens
the chessboard of movement
positioned on the other side of the velvet rope
where rules are adapted for leverage
and an invisible image of the Creator
is stamped on one side of a currency
numbers digitally formatted
transfers made
but how much is ever enough,
survival is the pawn’s dilemma
while grasping a revolver inscribed with the words
In God We Trust
like a soldier
who well understands the existential,
it’s the paradox of life while looking at death
that seeks a clear sight while biting the lower lip…
the insiders
in private gatherings wearing the attire of inclusion
the stately garnished with circumcised scuplture
crossing legs in sophisticated fashion
heels and oxfords dangling from painted toes
bluebeards wondering whether finality
is truly the language of politics,
and judgment is a form of fly casting
while the fish ponder their fate
for bait can leave a discomfortable taste
yet the shining metal glistens in the waters
perhaps it’s best to swim elsewhere in the stream
under one’s own volition assuming there’s such a thing
but one might ask
where does elsewhere actually exist.
round yon virgin, mother and child
lying down to sleep at night
with the Earth’s damp soil as a bed
newspapers underneath the back
should I not awake
a prayer to the Lord for my soul to take
is the humane a sincere dream
and in the best interest
for whom and what…
or will the morning allow another day of free thought
and closer to a spiritual meaning,
questions pace back and forth in the mind
pondering the inevitable
or
is nothingness itself but a hallucination
like the Second Coming
written in Latin on a scroll
and posted on a Medieval door.
holy infant, tender and mild
Closing my eyes will I find
that which pleads to be found
in the youth of life’s year, perhaps
a celebratory deliverance
like a secular Passover
dancing naked in a festive circle
or sitting under a Bodhi tree
of the mind
visited by the wisdom of the desert
perchance there’s a karmic option
hiding in the shadows of the ancients
among the hills of sand
alone
so, I breathe deeply
and wait for the incense of awareness.
sleep in heavenly peace
Lord will you turn yourself into a monk
for the human eye not to be blinded by your brightness
and a prayer is offered on bended knees
just one drop of blood from above
oh, to be redeemed
to initiate the metaphoric saving of the soul
perchance the humble quest is not heard
for there’s the disquieted echo
from a legislative chamber
privilege has a special seat
those that possess seek a share of an illusion
a discriminate tithing of the ego
but the peasant’s pockets are empty
and the debtor’s prison awaits
where does one turn
cries from the lungs
a caller listens to a disembodied voice
a referral on another extension
a busy signal from beyond
will try again later
sleep in heavenly peace refrain
the grim reaper waits patiently behind the curtain
and considers the pain of suffering
knowing the professional class is at a party
the mind is washed once more
liberté, liberté is becoming obsolete
when half the work force is a machine
and liberty is of no value to artificial intelligence
so knowingly the owners clink their glasses in toasts
from suites of luxury
the hour does not abide by anyone’s script
for the moment will come soon enough
as the sun disappears below the horizon
and the soft voice under a bridge, sang~
Silent Night.
