Be a legacy
you will leave a legacy ~
(©Glenn Gardner 2013)
On Finding The Middle
Of A Triangle
(©Glenn Gardner 2013)
Geometrize th’incentre of a space
By secting angles and projecting lines.
The brain computes behind the furrowed face.
The pencil’s and the ruler’s plot inclines,
Yet just not of dimensions two or three.
Our senses tweak, and wreak and census seek
To scribe and plumb the depth of mystery
Of what’s out there, in here, within, oblique.
The Father, Spirit, Son, the three in one
Are wholly holy, wholly cry wee saints
From branches truncate wresting. This dry run
Will yet be watered; nourished, know restraint
In Sabbath rest that thrills yet spills unheard
And channels only living water’s word.
Unity in Diversity
© Glenn Gardner 04202013
See, salt in boxes, bags and shakers still
Is just a crystal by itself alone.
So pure and white it stays within until
Into the mix of flavours it is thrown.
Bright light cast from a steady source of pow’r
At its own speed will travel endlessly
To pin and point and hit the mark and scour
Dark shadows of reflection’s entropy.
So, iron, chafe and yearn – let heat arise
Defining and refining edges dulled
Creating wholly proper compromise
Conforming to a Holy proper mold
Of Father’s, once petitioned by the Son
Once sent. The Spirit’s here to make us one.
Far better that they stayed and worked so long
And carried separate torches joined as one.
Two flames as one burned bright in Word and Song
And kindled glowing hearts in lives undone
By self and shame and guilt and secrets dark.
They shared their “I would rather have Jesus”
In such a way ’twas loosed and left it’s mark
On little boys, grown men, and Empire Clubs.
Now one is gone and one is left behind.
Three scores and ten surpassed sure passed o’er snares
Amid a hard worked field white, ripe, defined,
And cross-crusaded full of wheat and tares.
Goodbye old friend. For now we’ll watch and stay
And sing “How Great Thou Art” til Jesus’ day.
In The Middle Of An End Run
© Glenn Gardner 04152013
‘e ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. Run End.
Endorphins rush off course, and course in veins
Exploding in our spirits’ inner men,
Enveloping with dust the layered pains.
As camera captured flash runs ‘round the whirled
The “dis” enchanted stand and cheer, so far
Below those loving hands once pierced and gnarled.
Though First Responder’s towels touch our scar,
Unseated and defeated cruel deceit
May yet still stab exposed fatigued frail limbs
Of runners, trailing leaders incomplete
Who foster ever faster end-run Grimms.
An interrupted run need not hit dirt
If covert truthiness meets Truth overt.
Today is a day when my own words might fail me.
I think I’ll just muse on a couple of creeds ~
We believe in Marx, Freud,and Darwin.
We believe everything is OK
as long as you don’t hurt anyone,
to the best of your definition of hurt,
and to the best of your knowledge.
We believe in sex before, during, and after marriage.
We believe in the therapy of sin.
We believe that adultery is fun.
We believe that sodomy is OK.
We believe that taboos are taboo.
We believe that everything is getting better
despite evidence to the contrary.
The evidence must be investigated
and you can prove anything with evidence.
We believe there’s something in
horoscopes, UFO’s, and bent spoons;
Jesus was a good man
just like Buddha, Mohammed, and ourselves.
He was a good moral teacher
although we think His good morals were bad.
We believe that all religions are basically the same,
at least the one that we read was.
They all believe in love and goodness.
They only differ on matters of
creation, sin, heaven, hell, God, and salvation.
We believe that after death comes The Nothing,
because when you ask the dead what happens, they say nothing.
If death is not the end, if the dead have lied,
then it’s compulsory heaven for all
excepting perhaps Hitler, Stalin, and Genghis Khan.
We believe in Masters and Johnson.
What’s selected is average.
What’s average is normal.
What’s normal is good.
We believe in total disarmament.
We believe there are direct links between warfare and bloodshed.
Americans should beat their guns into tractors
and the Russians would be sure to follow.
We believe that man is essentially good.
It’s only his behavior that lets him down.
This is the fault of society.
Society is the fault of conditions.
Conditions are the fault of society.
We believe that each man must find the truth that is right for him.
Reality will adapt accordingly.
The universe will readjust.
History will alter.
We believe that there is no absolute truth
excepting the truth that there is no absolute truth.
We believe in the rejection of creeds,
and the flowering of individual thought.
“Chance” - a post-script – by Steve Turner
If chance be the Father of all flesh,
disaster is his rainbow in the sky,
and when you hear
State of Emergency!
Sniper Kills Ten!
Troops on Rampage!
Whites go Looting!
Bomb Blasts School!
It is but the sound of man worshiping his maker.
I believe in God, the Father almighty,
creator of heaven and earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord,
who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried;
he descended into hell.
On the third day he rose again;
he ascended into heaven,
he is seated at the right hand of the Father,
and he will come to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting. Amen.
~ ~ ~ PS – Musing in the eye of a Twitter tornado
following the Boston Bombing
birthed a sonnet entitled
“In The Middle Of An End Run”
Today I seek a caffeine rush to clear
The darkling smokey glass of windows blurred
By mind’s eye sleepy visions inside fear
Behind an agate eyegate cloaked and furred
Now facing east I see a rising sun
Reflected on a silicated pane
Now captured by Nokia’s lens of one
Unwired connection netted, linked, and lain
In tangled webs of you’re onlines so swift
Now run to tell of eyelid’s joyous lift.
© Glenn Gardner 2013
“This life’s dim windows of the soul
Distorts the heavens from pole to pole
And leads you to believe a lie
When you see with, not through, the eye.”
~ William Blake 1757-1827