eternal love

silent prayer

rp: instrumental programming


© 2007 peguesmusic




I ask for humility, Oh God
God of everything
vanity and self love consumes
the seed of your love that is within me
because I see the world through
the sight of my own eyes
in mono sight it looks forward
and cannot see backward into my own head
a cavernous shell of self-doubt and illusion
this is why I seek to know myself
through me, through words,
images and sounds

am I imagining you
only to wake up
one day
somewhere else
dreaming you
reading this
so I pray
to the unseen God
and I have given all my hopes
up to Him/Her

even in my vanity I imagine my death
the friends and those that even imagined my love
the words of these mourners
will the words of flattery
measure up to a life time
will the mourning tears show a love for the longing
of my company
how can they
as I sit alone in my house
and the phone is still
and the door is closed
no one has called
in life
why will they cry in
death

will they cry because my departure
quickens the pace of their own demise
death as an endless line to a door to a place
where people go in
but no one comes out
this is the fear I take to a funeral service
whether I knew or really knew the dearly departed or not
I know that my time is coming and the
ceremonial dumping of my earthly remains will follow
and everyone will go home and watch tv
and wake up the next morning and go to work
and my life, my work , my accomplishments,
all that I am
will be forgotten
if I really want to make a difference
I need to touch the world
so that the imprint of my sacraficial devotion
is more than a memory
let it be
an eternal touch
an eternal prayer
an eternal voice
an eternal love

the legacy

the legacy
that is my journey
from child to man
from man to spirit
from spirit to master
is marked with death
along the road
the sign posts
and limitless speeds
in all directions
and dimensions
screaming horn talk
beating snares
sighing blue
crying ivory tears
breathing
the heart of the purest truth
bleeding
this blood soaked mantle
dripping pain
swung on trees
and hung from lamp post
these Jim Crow darlings
sipping the Massahs brandy
in bow ties
with shiny faces
oiled with fatback greased
limp curls fried with iron hot combs
singing white teeth
hearing Mr Charlie
yearning for self love
the respect of a Man
and the freedom of a soul
if I could have been there
and now
if I could have been now
skinny ties and labels
v-shaped blackness
in black and white
naive europeans in facistnation
of negrophilia
these layers
mounting up like eagles
flying as the wind
falling like white hooded sheets on
xylophonic melodic minors
and whole tone absolutisms
this Coltrane vector
in perfect geometric
silence
born as life from
modal Indian ragas
and holy occidental meditations
in worship
and rapture
as negro spirits
these sounds
are now
my own

this promise

the pregnant womb
holds the future
that is my second life
my purpose
she is my eternity
and with God I celebrate
the love of the happenstance
indifference which is her birth right
this child
in this time
the time of now
that is held in the cradle
of my eternal voice
as a candle shinning in the darkness of evil
this hope
in raptured innocence
speaking with new thoughts
and convictions
this promise
vowed when the earth began
as the spirit moved across the waters
curls numbered and counted
predestined, shaped and moved
this gift of life
as propitiated sacrafice
this love
feeling with the treasure that is our new vision
of honesty, truth
integrity and wisdom
this family
uncleaved from the maternal
grace that patiently
nursed a man-child for so
long consumed with lust
ego and self
my child is God's child
and I love her
with every breath
and waning heartbeat
until the end of my life
and beyond beyond

hopscotch

the morning tear of God
rest on a blade of indifference
kneeling in the wind
defiant and omniscient
in hopeful singularity
the day has risen
the promise of life that She holds
in that ocean of tear
which is Her reason
calls the children to the playground of life
that is fate
four square
kickball
and rainy hopscotch
a child's most important thought
is greater than every world concern
crisis,politic or discovery
for a child is of life
and we are of death

untitled....

christmas came early this winter
we learned to be thankful the days
we felt the winter when the power went out
and from the warmth of our layered blankets
our ears peirced with an icy cold no colder than
the dog house tents that house the homeless
our breath like mist exhaled in clouded puffs of desperation
we were cold and we were reminded that the true spirit of christmas
the true spirit of giving...
can never be experienced felt or even known
in expensive gifts of jewerly or clothing or electronic trinkets that
alienate us from one another, as we covet our neighbors toys
and as we even covet our neighbors means to give
this measure of vanity
this control
this manipulation
this evil
is not of Christ
it is of man
for the true spirit of giving
is to give the gift
of love