Mountaintops

Rocks all breaking metered sky,
cold and strong and still.
Stories told of quest and love,
thirst and pain and will.

Blundering and bruised and tired,
the leaders of the flock.
Suffer, suffer, laws be given
when suffering will talk.

Clouds and storms and lonely men.
Climbing in the dark.
Laws be given by bloody hands.
Moses, then the cross.

Black Swans

Empty hearts which lust for love
Silly things like misplaced doves.

These unfold in light and warmth,
falling, husks of far-gone pain,
calluses which melt in rain,
The sun now follows as I run north.

Sins and sorrows bent on pleasure,
on fullness grasped and grace by measure,
oh, frantic glances, peace desired.

Self-Help

Uncured tobacco, steaming in homes,

Little girls, children, beaten by bones.

Tears cannot make a breath draw smooth.

Tears can still bring something new.

An empty cry, a bitter slap.

Bloody water drips on the well-used map,

running from her home down South.

She swears to do the same.

Adore

They are drugs that break the mind-
Space is limited, money buys time.
Body is solid and Blood is wild.
All left is promises, Father to child.

Also, two things to share:

A great man is putting out a series of Screwtape-type Catholic-directed posts:
CrookedHeart Emails

And a great woman (who should really get together with that man from above and talk about greatness sometime) is distributing some art:

Dwawing the Line

Well...

In lieu of any formal poetry, I will share with you today this fact about myself which, if not funny, may be at least an observation of the human condition;

I often suffer a great deal of anxiety when listening to pop music through this procedure of ideas, taken in a background of very full, harmonic, basic tones:
Recognition of incomplete and lustful desire ("love"), inasmuch as the pop song is insincere>
>Reflection upon complete, dependent, self-giving, and holy, desperate Love>
>Consideration of the true, deeply marital nature of Man and Woman>
>Deep understanding of human (including myself) stupidity, hate, disconnection, and unnecessary distance>
>Anxiety>

I've found that it is rarely relieved by anything except prayer or severe distraction, but that goes for all anxiety, really.

Good Day!
-Daniel

PS. It's my birthday, and I just remembered a bit of poetry I composed this very morning on the way to work.

Um, Yes?

I'm Eighteen, I'm eighteen,
Drinking coffee with Irish Creme,
And the smell of a new pack of cigarettes!


I hope you liked it.  It was frought with imagery and deliciousness.

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeee!

Duties

Chardonnay is here today
a shallow bit in shallow ways,
A lighter love in lightning lays.
And storming skies are underpaid.