UNRECITED OEUVRES By AP

My oeuvres stare at me with a frown,

For they lie unrecited

Cos I have not an audience

I fear: even the third eye blind

Shimmering of darkness with fickle sparks,

Became the order I fret,

The change I never embrace

And the pain I hide from

Gulped hard bones that still choke my throat

How can the powers flow through the eye above my eyes

And down to the passage of my gullet

How can it ever get to my navel?

Gird itself round my loins

For my centres are all blunted

Like Adam I ate the forbidden fruit and ran from the garden

Partake of the tree of life they said

Even that I tasted yet my soul lies in this void

Uncanny like my paranormal mates

We lie in dust, folly and nothingness

We speak words of gods yet we lay in waste

We are crown with wisdom, yet in folly we abide

Our many oeuvres sleep in journals, laptops and more

Hoping that death may come in haste

And maybe a dimwit dares put them in print

I bet the world will be doomed of our madness and sweetness

 As of old, I remember Mr Allen, Cayce, Collier and many from ages gone

Like them we hope to be,

But we forget the centre within the centre of their mysteries

It is simple, nothing from the usual.

Even in this emptiness He beckons

As I watch nature’s voice

And hear humanity’s fear

As I lie poised in the melodious noise they make

Still I see Him, hear Him and even touch Him

And He knows I hate Him not neither my mates

We love Him more than love

We worship Him more than nature

In Him, we live, move and have our being

Like poets of old.

We, I, just hate religion

But, we, I,miss CHRIST in RELIGION.

May our oeuvres find an audience who understands love like Love.