Cast Down

Laid low, lost my glow,

Nowhere to turn, nowhere to go,

In free fall, in tail spin,

Nothing to grab,

To stop or slow me,

From falling in,

From the toast of the town,

I'm cast down, to class clown, 

Lost my crown but found my frown,

Cant do a verb, 

Slowly

A doing word became a noun,

A non-swimming swimmer,

Quickly drowns,

The whirlpool, Sucked me in,

Murky waters but lucid wallowing,

Despair licked lips start swallowing,

I feel peeled,

Hope's core is gored,

And hollowing,

Where is the voice,

I could be following?

The waters have, washed over me,

Like the breakers of the sea,

Your water-falls down inclines so steep,

From heights of flight, to the deepest deep,

You call to me,

To wake from sleep;

The Night time dawn-songs,

Sound morning-sweet,

And as my breath is squeezed away,

I hear my voice begin to say,

Why so downcast, soul, today?

Why disturbed and in dismay?

Look up, look up,

And hope in God,

I will praise him anyway,

I had been downcast

Cast down,

And drowning fast,

But now I'm free, 

Free at last, 

And for this time the time has passed,

The trial tried,

But it did not last,
And freedoms praise 

Is glorious, expansive and vast,

I'll tie my colours to the mast,

I'll raise the flag and praise with every gasp,
He is good, 

And His goodness lasts.

Satan Has Cleaned Up His Act

So Satan has cleaned up his act,

Got in on justice and that,

Stands for the poor and oppressed,

No need for chickens, or getting undressed,

No mentions of becoming possessed,

And no need for sure, for calling BS,

As Satan himself is not real,

He's just held as a symbolic ideal,

For freedom and self expression,
To cast off restrain and repression,

And for the plight of human autonomy,

That's why the fruit didn't stay on the tree,

And there is no such thing as a sin,

And these 'saints' do his work now for him,

And so the actor becomes director again,

The only thing of him attached to his play is his name,

And silently he waits in the wing,
Till the time comes to take up his title of king.

The Gentle Rain

The gentle rain,
It comes again,
It falls the same,
It fills the frame,

It's almost imperceptible,
But my clothes are it's receptacle,
Weighted down with it,
As a million miniscule droplets hit,

Drenched am I,
By stealth and sighs,

I'm washed, without knowing,
I've stopped without slowing,
I've grown without growing,
I am shown, but am not showing,

This gentle rain,
I'm soaked in pain,
Sodden to the skin,
So wet, I can't begin,
To tell where it began,
The water, as it ran,
Its running rivulets race,
Over my hands,
And down my face,

I didn't see it start,
I just stopped, and played my part,
The silent statue king,
Soaking, soaking in,
Soaking, soaking in,

The melancholic king,
Raining over everything,
Reigning over nothing,
Loved before even loving,
Standing under,
A silent thunder,
A growing numbness,
And a thawing wonder,

This gentle rain,
Its mercy comes again,
Its quality is not *strained,
It drops,
Softly drops, the same,
On the quick and the dead,
And in its gentle generosity,
It falls too,
Upon my head

Steeped in sin,
But soaked to the skin,
In cleansing spray-like mist,
I'm being baptised,
But I barely notice

M Joseph Burt (18.06.2020)

*Note: When starting this poem I was inspired by nothing more than the rain outside my window and the mood that it invoked in me from many rainy days and walks in the past. The phrase gentle rain just sprang to mind and I knew I had to convert this feeling into verses. At the stage where I was inspired by the 'melancholic king' image, I remembered the line from The Merchant of Venice, The quality of mercy is not strained. Rain has long been for me a symbol of God's mercy, and the Shakespeare line provided not only amazing imagery but also a good (if not obvious) rhyme. I looked it up in the middle of writing and was surprised to find that Shakespeare used the phrase gentle rain in this exact speech, and not only that but is speaking of mercy as an attribute of God which is reflected when Kings show mercy. So the Monarchic imagery was also strongly present in the same speech. Subconsciously it is possible that I had absorbed this and was recreating it in my poem, but it was not a direct attempt at interpreting or commenting on The Bard's work. Consciously it was just a happy coincidence. However I am sure that the phrase gentle rain was in my mind because of his contribution to our culture and consciousness. Whatever way you look at it, the Man has a presence in my poem that I would like to acknowledge.

Speak

I say speak,
But am I ready to listen,
 eyes pulled to the side,
By something that might glisten,
Ears filled with noise,
That toys with my attention,

 Speak, I say,
In my condescension,
Speak I say,
Whatever you may mention,
Speak says my mouth,
But my heart is in detention,
Ensnared by many things,
That set up some pretension

Some pretension,
Of worthy distraction,
Some pure lure,
That causes an attraction,
But worthy as it is,
Not worthy of my reaction,
Not worthy of your glory,
which can't be shared,
It cant hold a candle
Or ever be compared,

Speak I said,
But wasn't listening,
Lord let's try again,
Whatever that may bring,

And lord let me remember,
What you say isn't always spoken,
And words, as we know,
Can often become tokens,
But just as we speak through,
Body language and behaviour,
So you speak to us,
Through beauty and nature,
You love not just in words,
But through the sacrifice of the saviour,
Let that speak always,
Of a love that never wavers,

If we only learn your language
learn to read in silence and in patience
We'd see your voice is at work,
In our situations,
You're always saying something,
Even in the silence
To be still and to know,
Is something we should try once,

At least once,
Or perhaps maybe twice,
Still your soul and listen,
Let the mystery entice,

My mother used to say,
You hear but you're not listening,
Open up your heart and ears;
See what difference this will bring,

Shut down your facebook,
Turn off the phone,
Stop your little brother crying,
Give the dog a bone,
Cancel your appointments,
Get somewhere you're alone,

Sow generously in time,
You'll reap what you have sown,

Sow to the spirit,
Reap what is right,
Shuffle out of the darkness,
Step into the light,

Incline your heart,
and incline your ear,
If you are really listening you'll know,
Shh
God is here

Discipline

Father,

How I'd rather,

You took me in your arms,

And spoke to me, 

Comfort me with warmth and charm,

Throw off all your restraint,
Shield me from all harm,

I'm often alarmed that you don't,
And it's not so much that you can't,

But that you wont,

And it feels like I'm lost, afloat,

A passing leaf, adrift, 

A boat 

That slipped it's moorings,

And all my crying and outpourings,

If they are heard or not,

Does it matter a jot?

For the result is the same,

A lone candle
A wanderer on the water,

Taken by tides,

Looking for quarter,

And all I want is home,

All I want is you,

All I want is love,

And all I want to do,

Is love,

And be loved,

And in love,

You leave me to my devices,
It's a discipline,

I don't understand,

One day I will write a poem,

About the why of it,

And I'll sing of your love,
My strength and song,

My song and shield

Hebrews 12:5-11

Sight

I've had eyes,

All my life,

But I wonder if I've ever seen,

I've been looking ahead a lifetime long,

But seen nothing in between,

The foreground and the horizon,

My nose and the great beyond,

My aspiration blinded me,

The bright lights had me conned.

Creature

When you pray,

To the Universe,

As ethereal and spiritual as that seems,

You are praying to that which is made,

And in turn you make an idol,

Out of the created,

You creature,

Worship your creator.

They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator--who is forever praised. Amen.

Post Trauma

The wind,

Rushes by,

No lie,

All is quiet,

All is quite still,

In the bubble, until,

It burst out too,

And hell breaks through,

The landscape is change,

Nothing is the same,

I see life in a different hue,

I see in life,

Something new,

The ground is firmer,

Though the heavens may shatter,

Like glass,

There is grass ,

Between my toes,

I can feel it grow,

But I'm waiting though,

For the hit to kick in,

A smack in the mouth,

With adrenaline,

The landscape is changed,

Destiny rearranged,

As it always and ever shall be,

That's the permanent changing destiny,

Nothing is sure,

Except,

There sure is nothing,

To be complacent about,

So get on your knees,

And kiss the mud,

Give thanks to God,

Taste the air,

Find it there,

For it is only seconds till the bubble burst,

And, for now,

Face the worst,

Remember through siren blare,

God's hand in this is nothing but fair

M. Joseph Burt    (5.11.6)

(Written almost immediately after I had a head on collision with a bus in which my life nearly ended )

Burning Coals and Turning Cheeks

Sometimes it's hard to be a martyr,

Taking all the blame upon yourself,

Sometimes it's hard to do the right thing,

And leave your rage up on the shelf,

And I secretly suspect,

Burning coals do not exist,

And all the assholes,

Get away with it,

But then,

I never do it with love,

When I turn the other cheek,

And I still smile on Sunday,

I'll see you all next week

M. Joseph Burt  (25.9.6)

The Least I Could Do

In this life,

There's so much,

Shit and gold,

Warm and cold,

Sour and sweet,

Grass and street,

The least I could do,

Is be grateful,

And enjoy it,

If I can't find,

The faith to work miracles,

I could if I ponder,

Find some wide eyed wonder,

And a dawning sense of awe,

For all that's gone before,

The least I could do,

Is be grateful,

And enjoy it,

In this world,

There is so much,

Horror and treasure,

Sin and pleasure,

Loss and gain,

Benevolence and pain,

But the least I could do,

Is be grateful,

And enjoy it,

I can naval gaze,

I can spit,

In despair,

In the face of it,

I can cringe,

I can seeth,

I can winge,

At the path of greed,

But I will have missed the chance,

To take a stance,

And be grateful,

And enjoy it

 M. Joseph Burt  (15.7.6)