Song of the Lioness

Standard

I hear the rumble;

I hear the roar.

It stirs something

in me,

draws me

to soar.

It’s the sound

of my King;

He calls me

“My Queen.”

He yearns to

hear

the bellows

of the deep.

Peer into

those fiery eyes—

in which

neither weakness

nor strength

are found despised.

Fierce protection,

perichoresis;

pardon me, now,

while I write

my thesis.

FREE!

My roar fills the air

as I leap  and I bound

and I dance for

my maned one—

called sometimes

“Lamb,”

called sometimes

“Slain one”!

Beautiful!

I see You

in rain, in sun.

I hear your

whisper;

I feel you

run.

We are not

so far off,

you and I,

for here

betwixt us

meets earth

and sky.

 

 

 

Clary & Watts

Standard

This poem was inspired by a video I recently watched featuring an interview with Johnny Lee Clary. He recalls some of his most hilarious and memorable interactions with one Reverend Wade Watts. The then KKK leader didn’t know how to handle this bold man— full of love and a great sense of humor! I write this in tribute to their story. 

I—

I can’t keep up

with this drama;

someone is dissing

my mama,

and what did you

just call

my llama?

I

—haha—

I take it

so seriously

every time

you get all up

in my face

—haha, oh, man!!!—

and hate on me

because of my race!

(Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful, boo!)

Yo!

This is high-comedy;

what do you

want to be?

I see you staring

in the mirror,

but you looking

at me!

And I ain’t

quite insulted

as you’d like

me to be,

but wait—

would you

really

like me to be?

I can put on

that front; yeah,

I can go on

the hunt, yeah!

But I ain’t diggin’

for dirt, man;

I’m looking for gold.

You see the pan?

Look,

I know you’ve been

cast down;

I see them chains

and them rats around,

but that don’t conceal

to me your crown;

I see it hiding

behind that frown.

Now,

don’t you go sayin’

“I’m too lost to be found”!

I love ya, bro.

See you ’round.

 

 

A Most Horrible Fate

Standard

Must I play

The fool’s game

And tell you 

Only lies?

Must I be

Your pawn

In chess—

And me start to

Despise?

To weave a web

Most counterfeit,

To tell a spider’s

Tale . . .

To say whatever

Pleases you

Though it causes me

To ail?

To play Regan

And Goneril

Though Cordelia

Be my heart . . .

I hear that

Lies

Most honor you—

And I must do

My part!

To differ

Makes me

Traitor.

To differ

Rends me

Gone.

To speak up

Names me

Rebel.

You’d rather

I pull

Con?

What matter of man

Are you—

That this request 

You make?

I cannot call

You genuine

I must conclude

You fake.

Beauty in the Bleak: Heroes & Villains

Standard

Not all you see

Before your eyes

Matches what’s hidden

Beneath a guise.

For all the tales

Of villainy,

What it is

Isn’t what you see.

A wicked heart,

An evil fate,

A life that seems

Consumed by hate—

I think you just

Fell for the bait—

Of seeing only

Surface things . . .

Fascination with

Babbles—

And with rings.

A miracle,

A spark of light—

May yet conceal

A bit of spite.

You haven’t seen

What’s truly light.

For light illumines

All before—

Revealing treasures,

Revealing more.

You might not hear it

Knocking at your door—

In guise of simple

Woman poor.

(A ‘helpless victim,’

That’s for sure.)

But what is hidden

In her guise?

Is there spark

Within her eyes?

Far from flicker—

Endless light.

Eternal circle

Of innocence right.

She stares to deep

Within your soul;

She seeks your

Treasures—

Not control.

She longs to call

Your beauty forth—

To point a way

Unto due north.

But will you

Be fooled by

The lies?

Fail to see

Through her

Disguise?

For treasure

Worth it

You shall seek . . .

Beauty hidden

Beneath the bleak.