Words We Don’t Know

Words We Don’t Know

The words come and go
But the soul knows
There’s so much more we could say

Love comes and goes
But our heart knows
there will be better days

Some friends come and go
But in the end
we know that real friends will stay

Life can often be slow
but, oh, time goes
and we always love again

We find we sometimes sow
words we don’t know
as our muse dances and sways

When toe to toe
with those holding our soul
we relive all the mistakes we ever made

Our work always grows
and often we’re shown
our best effort is still only clay

Poetry: MESSIAH

 

M.E.S.S.I.A.H.

by Thadd Presley

Miracles mirror the Maker’s material
Even established events of entertainment are ethereal
So that such a show of Self, so shamelessly spiritual,
Should somehow shatter the signal of the subliminal
Image of the Immaculate Individual
And allow an Appreciation of anything abysmal
However Hellbound the Heretic’s Hypocritical Hymnal

Flying Crabs

Flying Crabs

by Thadd Presley

When my mother took her children to the beach
we had the most fun while flying kites high out of reach.
So high and fast they’d fly, soaring above the water
that when  they came down, it was really no bother

For my oldest brother would put them back in the air again.
It was he who discovered the night-time sandy friends.
At dusk the little crabs would come out  in droves.
We caught a bucket full  and took them home

My mother let us keep some because they were small
but did she know what we were planning? no not at all.
The morning came and we took straight to our kites,
latched onto the string, and then put them in flight

The kite hoisted them high into the sky and with stalky eyes
they viewed the world , as the only crabs to ever fly.
Finally they would gather the courage and drop back to the sea
When my mother caught, she broke our kites, and grounded us for two weeks

So we are Here. What Now?

So We Are Here. What Now?

by Thadd Presley

The fire in my belly is lit
I don’t use an alarm clock
I’m up before six
with dreams so big you’d think I was a kid
anxious to meet and play with friends

The gleam in my eye is bright
from the dark, a focused light
projecting visions from inside my mind
straight to your heart
illuminating the places you try to hide

They can’t take away or frustrate
the day you stake your claim to fate
For God’s sake, the ache,
this has to be a mistake
there’s no way that Life is such a waste

Beautiful creations clean you
Renews the used and abused
and brings to bloom the fruit needed to prove
that you can choose
without fearing what there is to lose

Choices are Life’s crossroads
designed with two ways to go:
stay where you are or dare into the unknown.
Both are risks that will show
you choose today over growing fat and old

Should we continue to be absurd
flog a dead horse with cotton candy words
bring sandwiches to banquets to feed the birds
or can we allow the truth to be heard:
You can either relive the past or have a future.

The Nights I Write

“The Nights I Write”

by Thadd Presley

Sitting near the window, under the moon, in the light I write
Harvesting thoughts that form from dreams during the nights, I write

It has been a pleasure to write about their lives, an undertaking of soul
As it happens, their fictitious life’s design illuminates the nights I write

Dark characters die too soon only to be born alive again to sin
and hide in the shadows or the dens to survive the nights I write

The village where I create my men and the wives they so love
comes ever so close to disaster within the darkness on the nights I write

The men cry, “Thadd, why dost thou do ill and evil to us men.”
I have learned they deplore their days and despise the nights I write.

Fighting Spirits for Lyrics

Fighting Spirits for Lyrics

I’ve been writing a few lyrics down.
Although, good words have yet to be written,
I’m not getting up, I’m not quittin.
So long as I remain sittin,

I’ll find the perfect letters
and cram them together,
so they’ll be just a little better
than the first time around.

When the words make a familiar sound
forming the beginning of a simple lyric.
I’ll quietly draw nearer to hear it:
the voice of that wandering spirit.

I’ve no reason to fear it.
It’s volunteered every appearance
and engineered an experience so coherent
that I like when visits my piece of ground.

Inked Life

In this style of poetry, I use the same words to create the first and second parts of each stanza. So lines 1 and 2 use the same words as 3 and 4.

Inked Life

Pages grown from vision
Novel becomes inked life
Grown from novel vision
inked life becomes pages

Writing brings character
There is always blood drawn
Blood always brings writing
Character is drawn there

Writers survive the night
Each word is immortal
The night is immortal
Writer’s survive each word

The Fall by Thadd Presley

The Fall

 

by Thadd Presley

He glanced over the edge, not knowing that below
his emptiness was the truth. He’d always been alone.
He looked across the desert trying to imagine his fall.
The beautiful, blue horizon reminded him that love wasn’t all.
Many times over the last year, when love came near
he embraced the future, saying he could face all of his fears
about coming out and letting his family know
tell them who he wanted to love, so he could let his love be shown.
He’s already heard the hurtful words. They all cut deep, to the bone.
How could tear his family apart and destroy his childhood home?
Feelings of loss, betrayal, remorse, and disgust
were made worse by the thoughts of abandonment and distrust.

How? – he asked himself. How could you do this to them?
They love you!! God, you’re nothing but filthy fucking trash.
This selfishness will ruin everything you touch,
and turn your families life into dust and ash.

They all see through you! It’s obvious what you are.
Why would they be surprised to hear it repeated in your voice?
They’ve said it themselves.  “He’s always been a blip on my Gaydar.”
“God didn’t make him a fag, being that way is his own choice.”

His uncle told his dad on his eleventh Christmas. “He’s a damn fancy boy.”
An Ass-tronant, a Butt-Pirate, a Bum-hole Engineer,
A Fudge packer, a stinking cockstar, I bet you’re really embarrassed by him.
A Fairy, a flamer, for a son. You know his momma turned him queer.

He’s a limp wristed, Jobby Jabber, a butt rustling-shit stabber
A girly boy, Nancy Man, fancy-pants, Cock-struction worker
A Browine King, Anus Assassin,and faggot ass dick grabber
Even his Dad called him a shit smelling Goober Jerker.

His mother found out on her own.
There  was nothing to hide. He couldn’t have lied if I tried.
His mother had knew since day one.
But when he admitted it,  she actually looked surprised.

We are through with you, she said, but you know I love you.
I want you to be happy, son, but going against God and nature is not the way
You’re dad doesn’t want you here anymore!
He’s tried for so long, but his heart, you know We can’t make that mistake!

And now you want to turn me away?
You’d really turn me out?
You’ve known this longer than anyone.
I thought I could count on you to help them love me.
But it’s too late. Everything has wilted and gone dreadfully wrong.
I never wanted this sadness to come bacl, but the end has come and gone past.
Love has no end, but how long can hate last?

He glanced over the edge, not knowing that below
his emptiness was the truth. He’d always been alone.
He looked across the desert trying to imagine his fall.
The beautiful, blue horizon reminded him that love wasn’t all.

 

The Guide

The Guide

by Thadd Presley

Perhaps; and I say this in case,
You’ve never been to, seen, or heard of the place
And, if not, just perhaps, you’d still like to go
You can get there still, by following someone who knows.

And who knows the way, and how to get there, please tell?
It’s not the one who only heard of The WAY and says all will be well.
Is there a single path? The only answer is no.
Is there a pleasant route? There’s only one way to know.

You must follow your heart, through the thoughtless crowd
And cover your ears to the loud distractions that abound.
There’ll be people pushing and friends holding you down.
They’ll see in your eyes, if you’ve got a route planned out.

And once they see that you know the way,
They’ll ask you for directions to that wonderful place.
Perhaps, just perhaps, you’ll take the extra time
To not just tell them the distance, but become their to guide.

David Bowie and Blackstar Lyrics

I have been listening to David Bowie’s last album everyday since my girlfriend bought it. Many people know that I am a student of religion and philosophy. So, even before he passed on from this life to the next, I heard some words in this songs that made me think about Christianity.  The title song itself “Blackstar” caused me to think he was writing about religion because the Devil is refered t as the Morning Star. I think by calling himself a Blackstar he was admitting that knew he was a sinner in need of salvation.

To be more specific, Blackstar seems to be a revelation (a conversation) between himself and his Spirit. Here are some lyrics that stuck out to me:

“In the villa of Orman.”

Orman is in Syria and Jesus did some inportant things in Syria. Did you know that Jesus appointed Peter as the first Pope while in Syria?  So, that solitary candle, could mean the beginning of the Church. Was David Bowie Catholic?  I don’t know. Maybe this is his way of saying he was.

“Something happened on the day he died
Spirit rose a metre and stepped aside
Somebody else took his place, and bravely cried”

The Bible says know that Jesus cried in The Garden of Gethsemene and that he took our place in Death. Christians believe that something did indeed happen on the day of execution. Salvation happened.

” On the day of execution, on the day of execution only women kneel and smile,”

Now this lyric brings to the foreground the woman who was at Jesus’ grave. There were no men gathered there. Only Mary Magdelene was present when he Jesus approached his own tomb. She was kneeling and weeping.  But imagine the “smile” she would have had on her face when she realized it was in fact Jesus that she was talking to in John 20:16-18

These few lines from Blackstar make me smile, just as Mary must have smiled. Because as a Christian, I want to believe that David Bowie, is a brother in Christ and  will be singing in God almighty Choir when I get there myself.

More lyrics from “Blackstar.”

Something happened on the day he died
Spirit rose a metre and stepped aside
Somebody else took his place,

How many times does an angel fall?
How many people lie instead of talking tall?
He trod on sacred ground, he cried loud into the crowd

I can’t answer why
Just go with me
I’m-a take you home
Take your passport and shoes
And your sedatives, boo
You’re a flash in the pan
I’m the Great I Am

I can’t answer why
But I can tell you how
We were born upside-down

Born the wrong way ‘round

Thank you for reading. I know religion is a hard subject to read about, expecially if it is somepne else’s explanations that they have cobbled together on their own. I realize I am only a person and I havven’t an answers, only curiosity. We will all miss David Bowie and I like to imagine him in heaven working with all those voices to create a joyful noise.