peace!. . .

give me peace!

The voices,
the choices,
the one who belittles,
the Benzes, pliés,
Rolls Royces. . .

The people,
the cries,
and the chimes from the steeple,
blown away the wrong way
in the wind,
all which might have brought lauds,
having thus been more laudable
were they only more audible,
if they’d not, in translation,
been rendered more feeble.

The strings wound up taut,
the lightning and thundering conundrums
in which I’ve been
repeatedly, ruthlessly caught. . .

The perils to sit,
so much that I’ve felt,
so deep stuffed and not fully felt,
and so many iotas and quotas
not getting their numbers nor dots,
ne’er being heard nor spoke,
at times, not even thought. . .

The brain looping stories
spun in them
and in me,
the joys, pains, disgraces and glories,
that are, of stories’ own nature,

there’s always much more
and much less
could be told,
both in tales immemorial,
and in those only half-seconds old.

I know there’s a limit
and a penalty in it,
for being too timid. . .

but, on the flip side,
when I choose NOT to hide,
pains are dealt
for my choice to be bold.

So, what gives?. . .

And what does it take?
With tons of aplomb,
and good wits to act my BEST best,
like the best human
during their own special moon phase
of sharpest acumen,
customarily lives?

God says,
(or else I guess)
what it takes is
stretch and stretch and stretch
(and BREAK!. . .)
grow. . .

Going tough gets,
and when it gets,
it all boils down
to the fact
no matter
how brilliant I am
as, with the puzzle,
I wrestle and figure,
unknowns both rogue and tame
will always remain,
while I am here,
so I best move on forth,
in my love and my fear,
and I’ll still just have to
figure it out
as I go.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Prayer and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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