MIDNIGHT SONGS
(the singer sings as the black night falls)
starting in late October 1989
POETRY INDEX
A......
A BACHELOR POET-BOY'S LAMENT
A DRY SONG IN A SOMETIMES WEARY LAND
A GREEN BEETLE FLYING
AS MAD MODERN MAN FACES HIS ULTIMATE
AND UNESCAPABLE DESTINY
AT STROKE OF MIDNIGHT, GOD SHALL WIN...(Yeats)
A VICTORIAN SONG
C........
CASTING CARES UPWARD
CALL IT MEDITATION
E......
ENTER THROUGH HIS GATES
F.......
FROM PSALM 4
G.......
GOD'S LOVE WAS BORN
GOD THE SUN!
H.......
HAPPY DEFIANCE
HEAVEN'S
WASHROOMS
HOLY RIVER FLOWING DEEP
HOW BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS
I......
I AM A HUSBAND OF NO WIFE
IN ANSWER TO THE QUESTION
OF WHO
OR WHAT IS A POET
INNOCENCE FEASTS WITH THE PROPHETS
IT'S SANITY WHICH TAKES THE CUP
O.........
ON
ENTROPY
ON HUMAN SEXUALITY, FREEDOM AND RESURRECTION
ON INSPIRATION
ONE MAY SERVE GOD FROM THE PULPIT
ON THE NATURE OF GOD'S NAME
ON
THE TORTUROUS ASSENT TOWARDS SEXUAL
HEALING
MIDNIGHT SONGS pg 2
R.......
REALIZE LIFE WHILE YOU LIVE IT
S.......
SHE CARRIES A CROSS LIKE A WOMAN
SHE DANCED JUST LIKE A FALLING LEAF
SONGS OF THE POETIC PRIEST
T.......
TAKE
A WILD FLIGHT,
O SENSE FILLED MIRROR OF THE SKY
THE BIRD WHICH FAILS TO FLY
THE ESCAPE OF THE HARE
THE HOBBLEDEHOY DRESSED IN HODDEN
THEN THE DEEP WELL IGNITES WITH LIGHT
THERE FEAR IS NOT IN PERFECT LOVE
THE WELLDIGGER'S SONG
THIS IS WHERE MY HEART SHOULD BE
TO
HE WHO HELPS HOLD UP
THE WIND AND THE WEATHER
TO THE MASTER OF THE HEALING HANDS
W........
WHEN DOLPHINS LIVE LIKE HAPPY THOUGHT
WHEN THE WORDS BECOME WORD
WHILE TOTTERING ON THE LIP OF THE ULTIMATE BRINK
WHY MUST WE ARTICULATE OUR LOVES?
44
poems
Last poem - WHY MUST WE ARTICULATE OUR LOVES?
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I AM A HUSBAND OF NO WIFE
I am a husband
of no wife
in the wind;
and yet one
more beautiful in her flesh
than a dream of light:
for
she is that very light
in pain.
I am a husband
of no wife
in the wind.
SHE CARRIES A CROSS LIKE A WOMAN
She carries a cross
like a woman,
this gentle warrior
who weeps as she works
the hard necessary thing.
Who can kill like a woman,
or be
killed upon a cross
like a forgotten one?
A pot in her hand,
or a broom:
sane weapons
in a necessary war.
GOD THE SUN!
God the Sun!
What, the sun God?
No! a thousand times!
But look! God, the Sun!
See the picture book written for children.
See the picture book of life!
See
the golden Sun pour out its fierce heat,
generating its fiery life-giving light
from the core of its own being.
Not because of the little flower
does it shine
but
because it is the Sun!
And because it is the Sun
it gives life to the flower
which receives it.
Behold the picture book of God
and live in joy!
Does God love because of
something in us
that draws forth his response of love?
Or does God love because
God is love?
God loves, and the Sun is like him.
See the golden God pour forth His fiery love,
generating His own fierce life-giving light
from the core of His being.
Not because of the little soul
of man who needs such love does He shine,
(could a man
invent such a God
any more than a flower could dream up the Sun?),
but God shines love and joy
because He is God
and He births life to receive Him.
See the little flower bathed in light,
in slow ecstasy stretch out willingly,
to open and pour out its fragrance
and color into the Sun's bright face.
Behold, it is the truth of God
for
us to live in the warmth of an uncreated
and imperishable Joy!
So let us learn, like little children,
the lesson of the Sun!
Then, when we have learned that lesson....
Lesson
#2, The Moon.
AT STROKE OF MIDNIGHT, GOD SHALL WIN...(Yeats)
That Angel standing under the big white umbrella
holds a yellow
balloon and a gun;
the many headed chameleon stalks through the mall.
Blam! Lizard blood splatters the department store windows.
Blam, blam: the revolving doors are slowly turning.
TO HE WHO HELPS HOLD UP THE WIND AND THE WEATHER
Build the house right and it shall stand.
First the wind,
first the weather,
first the sky, for that is the foundation;
then the stones,
then the mortar
then the boards and battens and glass,
for that is the building.
Then the rough skinned animals move in
and become two
pearly, sensuous people
in love,
for they are with the wind
and in the stone
and are the glass.
He who looks through the looking glass
shall
help hold up
the wind and the weather.
REALIZE LIFE WHILE YOU LIVE IT
Realize life while you live it,
if you live it at all.
Life is a
matter of spirit;
even children know this.
"Which spirit?" the blind Irish fiddler replies.
The one which leads to the perfect love
and opens blind fiddler's eyes.
I walked from County Mayo
down to County Cork
where my old ancestral cottage
dwelt in mossy ruin;
and found an open road
and an open heart,
and a fiddle, and a poet's
wailful crying.
And there through desolations
and the gray of winter's skies
the musky light of morning smote upon my inward eyes;
and all those ladies dancing
on the green bright dewy lawn
were of epochs yet to come
being of ages past and gone.
The musky light of morning shown upon that cottage blear
and the sulking shadows shouted
that the very truth was near!
So I danced the widening circle
and waved a red kerchief
and
felt some music moving down to blood--
and all the ladies dancing there within the dewy dawn
were dressed in Christly garments like a bride.
Rol de rol de ree O, rol de rol de for,
blood is on the lintel
and incense in the fire.
Rol de rol de ree O, rol de rol de mir,
light is in the cottage
when the dancer's here!
FROM PSALM 4
Think deeply soul
as your body lies upon your bed.
Seize the moment of life again.
Find the doorway
illuminated by the one vital
constant spark,
the doorway which opens