Chronic

-
The Chronicles of Narnia
Tells us of Mr. Beaver's honest question:
Is Aslan safe?
To which the answer was a resounding
'Course he isn't safe. But he's good.
He's the King, I tell you.

When Lucy Pevensie met Mr.Tumnus at the Lamppost The little pensive girl was told it marked 
The beginning of Narnia
Chronicles of a vast, unfolding adventure
Of turkish delights, and alegories
That escape the imagination
Find their expression in the subtle sweetness
Of a trap. 

Chronic pain of tarnished innocence
Swells thru the thickest snow
Freezing life to numbness.
Until Aslan breaks the frigid suffering
With his roar that cuts thru the darkest forests
He isn't safe
But he's good.

Chronicles of incessant wanderings
Find their respite in that ever so tall Lamppost
Ushering the way back
When we all need to leave.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Concord Kebab Shop

-
Fresh and Fast Concord Kebab Shop Single, double, large Pizza, manoosh, pide Persian or Turkish The couple's mother tongue Flying 10 for 12 dollars for chicken wings Protein box Beef, chicken, mixed Say cheese Fresh and Fast To save money I prefer pick-up John, to my surprise, she called my name Free chicken wings while I wait Ham and pineapple pizza Single Ready for you Im ready for you Next time  Fresh and Fast Concord Kebab Shop Ham and pineapple pizza Double Ready for you, John And...
Read more

Light Bulbs

-
Text on brittle, acidic papers Soprano crescendo from the pious women of the church Belting archaic hymns of the gates of heaven And the power shuts down in a snap. In a snap the light bulbs glare Charged full by the day tonight they are proud And the singing resumes Pious women, belting archaic hymns of the Gates of heaven. Words on acidic papers, sheets of hymns They glow, they beat, they speak To the living who sings the archaic hymns Of the gates of heaven Shining ever brighter than the emergency bulbs on the ceiling. Not a verse interrupted When the power shut down in a snap The pious women of the church Resume in their high pitch singing The archaic hymns of the gates of heaven. And the body lies still Doesnt blink, doesnt twitch Impervious of the momentary darkness Subdued by the high pitch singing Of the archaic hymns of the gates of heaven. If not for the light bulbs And the soprano singing of the pious women I would have never understood
Read more

Hyperplasia

-
Thin, long, black probe In my artificial sleep Tissue in the gut, taken. Under the light, smeared It was focused, zoomed While I waited, long. Shutting my world In silence I filled the hours With busied nothingness, until -- The day I sat in that freezing, quiet room, He pushed the paper, white as his coat The precious word he underlined, 'Benign' - focused, zoomed, magnified And the skies became bluer -- Life, sweeter.
Read more