Sketch

Magnificent – Haiku Aaron Blakeley

People take pictures of everything.Pictures of food, pictures of each otherlandscape, pets, kids, friends, everything.This is good. I stopped taking pictures of everything and started to write poetry. Capture the feeling of loving my child, or my wife, being late to work, or the breeze as it passes through the pines. Even if no one reads it this will still be with me.

A Second Chance at Coffee

20181219_083819

One slip, one unfinshed task, one meInsufficent quantum mental nodesOrganic processor ran hot Stuck looping unreasonable expectationsImterstellar contium terminated by “oops”I forgot my laptop Late to work already after Raked over the coals of joyful inadequacyThe seams; can’t you see them they loosen, bust into spaceAnd I am undone in the few miles it takes to go and return.While I am there getting what I forgotI fill my cup again A second chance at coffee.

That is My Clock Work Demon!

david-clode-800584-unsplash

Lord Burgahmont! I need to have words with you my gilded lamplighter has gone missing and it seems the one you wield right now is a striking doppelganger. Oh Lord Pelshfuit, it is indeed your gilded lamplighter as I absconded with it one fortnight ago as payment for my bejangled pony saddle you borrowed but never returned to me. How dare you Lord Burgahmont! I removed from your possession that magnificent bejangled pony saddle as …

Scrub Away

mohamed-nohassi-186911-unsplash

Scrub away your identityScrub away your pain No matter what you do you can’t get rid of the Imago Dei Go ahead and yell at himGo tell God he’s wrong Just remember what he says about you while you rage within the throng.

A Hard Peace

koushik-chowdavarapu-108156-unsplash

A toddler’s demanding cry.A teen’s frustrating whine.A child’s roll of the eye.A coworker’s biting reply.A spouse’s sharp decry. My heart is hard.My eyes are blind.Under all human action,A desperate link.Be it hurt, truth, madness or sin,True evil, virtue or a deafening inner dinThe man with empathy, wisdom and love combined,There in his heart grows the peacemaker’s vine A toddler’s demanding cry.The confusion of youth and dependence imbibe. A teen’s frustrating whine.The scaffolding is set build …

One Light Command

edward-cisneros-408848-unsplash

All these people, bodies, soulsLungs filled with gifts, every particleOne man speaksArms and microphone a man who is focal Abide in me The branch drinks the sap Pens scratch paper tiny screens scrollWe are intertwined by the KingAre we superficial?I am a well dressed bag man Keep my command.The fruit swells is it sweet? It is so polished all of it even meI hate the polish I want to seeI want to see past to …

Forgot The Deep Wood

photo-1505567745926-ba89000d255a

I forgot the Deep Wood.It used to be sewn into my bone.Where fires burned for warmth.Light was made for reading and work.The deep wood used to be my home. I would drink from brooks of song,but as modern man from the tap.Where everyday chores were craft.My modern world is immediate,a disposable waste a glimmering trap What is this Deep Wood I seek? Not a place of location or crest. No, an inner reality painting all.The wind …

Still

alex-496355-unsplash

Still, in the morning, I wake. The earth still moves. The vibrations of ambient heat.It is warm in the blanket.I am still,still with my wife,still in the dark of the room.Yet nothing is still, our particles vibrate,our minds move with amnesiac dreams.The spirit moves.I am quite, I know God.

Avenattie Was a Hottie

hunters-race-408744-unsplash

Avenattie was a hottieWho sold women’s words to CNNIn hopes that his virtue signaling would lead to his pockets and gold within. Avenattie was a hottie Who spat fire and truth to power And thought that the presidential seat was just beyond the golden shower. Avenattie was a hottie Who upheld women’s rights Till he was accused by them of striking out of spite. Avenattie was a hottie A lawyer, yet due process he need …

The Gods of The Copy Book Headings

410px-Copybook_example_text_of_isaac_barrow

By Rudyard Kipling AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all. We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turnThat Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:But we found them lacking in …