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Selected Poems of Steven Curtis Lance

Displaying Poems 1501 thru 1525 of 2766 Poems

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Feb 15, 2008, 12:46 am


Four for Four

St. Valentine's Day MMVIII

I

The eye in the sky
As it passes by
Observes and illuminates
Us here as we go
Where we never know
Before and behind our fates
A sign of the real
Designed to reveal
Celestial coordinates
By which we will find
Before and behind
There are no walls only gates
Context to context
Through one to the next
Where light behind darkness waits
As shown to us by
The eye in the sky

II

Mother Earth I hear you sing
Hear me sing in harmony
As I bring my offering
Knowing that you sing for me
And the rest of humankind
Those who see and those still blind
Out of sight and out of mind
Soil and soul and everything

Only those who serve are free
Fashioned as we are to be
Forged by fire and suffering
Coming out the other side
As refined and clarified
To live past where others died
Mother can you hear me sing?

III

Apocalyptic people
Strike me as suicidal
Should lightning strike their steeple
They would forget the bridal
Baptismal confirmation
Or other celebration
Of life as God might send it
As some sort of lesser thing
Preferring God just end it

Time to hush and hear life ring
Within like their steeple bell
More of heaven less of hell
And what of the rest of us
Who still have some things to do
Love to give and life to live
People like me and like you
Who live and have love to give?

Apocalyptic people
Think they are the best of us
Are the strong but they are wrong
Strong people are those who stay
Who never find life too long
Nor aspire to slip away
Keep them to the west of us
Toward sunset as we turn east

Apocalyptic people
Come and partake of the feast
Of life on its wedding day
Baptismal confirmation
Or other celebration
For no matter what you say
You will find out you were wrong
When lightning strikes your steeple
Come and see then who is strong

Apocalyptic people
It might be awhile: go long

IV

The rose called Sterling Silver blooms
In crystal in sequestered rooms
Where ivory meets irony
And ebony knows agony
Reluctantly but far too well
Decapitated and full-blown
Where nothing really can be known
And everyone only assumes
That life must be endured alone
While outside in sparkling weather
The sun and moon laugh together
As the roses bury the tombs

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Feb 13, 2008, 5:04 pm


The Finding of Easter Eggs

Thinking better to be underestimated
Than to be a disappointment to anyone
I privately enjoyed what I had created

But now I see some discovery has begun
Of all those hidden Easter eggs of poetry
Which I had decorated and then hid around

I always wondered what people would think of me
And what I left behind should it ever be found
I thought I would have to wait until I was dead

And until then live quietly so poor and small
That posthumous success would not go to my head
Success might not be posthumous now after all

Out practicing my poetry al fresco here
Like Whitman juxtaposing his antipodes
I thought I was anonymous wearing this beard

But either I am known now or I just look weird
Suggesting Santa or summoning Socrates
Because at least here my identity is clear

Given this and my other specificities
Word travels by word-of-mouth and can travel fast
Yet I seldom seem to meet with disapproval

People make me feel like someone nice to be near
Though my fellow wanderers face forced removal
I need not wander anymore but simply be

Of late when I read to them people seem to hear
With interest mingled with curiosity
Word-of-mouth smoothed and rounded like stones from the sea

This suits me fine since I would like to stay awhile
As I begin to believe it will all work out
And that I might not disappoint myself at last

I look back on my life with a bittersweet smile
To think that what the fuss of it was all about
Was the finding of Easter eggs hidden before

That I would bloom in age and that this thing of mine
For hiding things would in the end work out just fine
A secret no more now having slipped out the door

My future my present to lift me from my past
Perhaps I might not disappoint myself at last

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Feb 12, 2008, 8:22 am


Having Come This Far

a little song for Laura

You were so hurt so scared
So small so unprepared
To go down the dark road
Beneath your heavy load
With very few who knew
And fewer still who cared
How it felt to be you
When nobody else dared

Your now is my again
I know and I care too
I would have understood
As lonely now as then
And know you know I would
But I just saw you when
You rose a butterfly
Having fallen a star

New wings caressed my face
Turned upward to the sky
By this uncommon grace
You chose to share with me
To fly across the years
Though broken straight and true
Already dried of tears
Though I might shed a few

Apparently somehow
We are in the same place
My hand is in your hand
We know what words to say
Though we will never tell
Nor want to remember
What we have seen of hell
Back in deep December

But look how strong we are
For having come this far

And since we are here now
Where we are meant to be
Arriving where we are
Having come the hard way
We might as well feel free
To be and have our say
Past the indignity
Of wounds which will not heal

It almost hurts to see
Someone as hurt as me
But look how strong we are
Sharing this strength we feel
Seeing how much we learned
And knowing it is real
With these wings we have earned
For having come this far

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Feb 10, 2008, 11:09 pm


Hear it Ring

Are you almost ready for your freedom yet?
That word you heard something about at school? Or
Would it be better to silently regret
And not resist forgetting what to fight for?
(Do we have any freedom in any case
Or is that just one of the lies of this place?)

Change is coming and cannot come soon enough
Two stolen elections toward dictatorship
A soft-bellied junta of mendacity
Helps the rich get richer while they ream us rough
And they waterboard you for a little lip
So now I suppose they will waterboard me

What I want to ask you is do you feel tough
Enough to strike back at the oligarchy
Or are you just going to sit there and fret
About the big lie and huge hypocrisy
Which would keep you a slave right into your grave?
Are you ready to assert your right to be?

Is your dignity worth your trouble to save
Or have you forgotten about being free?
Do we have any freedom in any case
Or is that just one of the lies of this place?
Hey fat cats! I want you to know what I see
As you loot the coffers and leave in disgrace:

The land of the free and the home of the brave
Will survive you and your pirate's-pillaging
But if freedom is ...you will soon hear it ring

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Feb 10, 2008, 12:56 am


Breadline Solidarity

Fresh-scrubbed bright-eyed corn-fed blonde-haired girls make
A special breadline box for the poet
And boys who look just like them bring it out
They offer absolutely everything
But there is only so much I can take
Since I walked down and the grownups know it
So a volunteer volunteers to bring
Box and poet home having brought about
An eye-opening confirmation class

We pass a hobo lying on the grass
He is already tired and has no place
To go with his Saturday breadline box
But he got a good one in any case
And I see he holds a new pair of socks
Too clean for his feet until later on
When he can step into the fountain's pool
Tonight when the out-of-towners have gone
He knows what to do is nobody's fool
And illustrates the central paradox
Of homelessness where hard knocks go to school
Wherever he is is his place to be

The kids have had their eyes opened today
Their confirmation class taught them to see
That hobos and poets look the same way
At least when hobos are poets like me
Standing in the breadline on Saturday
Thanking God I still have a place to live
If perhaps only temporarily
To put away what opened-eyed kids give
With love in breadline solidarity

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Feb 8, 2008, 9:08 pm


Dust

When the sun shines I want to get outside
To feel it warm me and to escape from
The artificial boxes where I hide
Where light is limited with only some
Stray shadows sneaking round the shrouded glass

I want the sun to kiss me in my face
And as the boxes where I hide must pass
So must I too but as I do embrace
This shining sun too bright to understand

Life has been a bitter disappointment
But the kiss of the sun strengthens my hand
To feel able to keep its appointment
With what it is supposed to do for you
For me and for all to do what it must

At last the sun shines! Now what I must do
Is find the diamonds hidden in this dust
For each one I find a dream will come true
Or so I must believe and hope and trust

And if this dust is all I ever find?
Shake it from my shoes ...and leave it behind

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Feb 6, 2008, 8:02 pm


Shrapnel

Not from the golden age of radio
Just from the baseball games and from the beach
But after forty-some years I still know
Annoying jingles from just out of reach
Which seem to annoy me less than they did
At that time at this time since they are part
Of that part of me I cannot get rid
Of (that part sequestered within my heart)

Pieces of shrapnel brought back from a war
Of hearts and minds which was lost from the start
It was not clear what we were fighting for
We had an idea but were not so smart
About the secrets of the radio
And we never knew like we never know

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Feb 6, 2008, 3:33 am


A Silent Song of Solidarity

Only one has the power to destroy me
No one else is strong enough for such a task
Except for me but I want to enjoy me
I need a miracle now and so I ask

And I know it will be granted unto me
That I can fly blind into the future now
To a new and unfamiliar destiny
I believe it will be glorious somehow

I have a good reason to embrace my fate
Good reason to be happy and not look back
I was a late bloomer but I have bloomed late
With all I need now and with nothing I lack

I can be extremely persuasive daresay
And I am alive to survive and to thrive
I am here to stay and will not go away
My being alive makes the world more alive

There is hope for me and I can see the day
When the sun comes up and my troubles are gone
In a truly encouraging coming dawn
For which until it comes I stubbornly wait

God is not nor would be finished with me yet
I seize my future with hope without regret
With a silent song of solidarity
Arising when my poems are read by you

And you do read them (thank you) I know you do
It is you who give me the ability
To be able to survive and make it through
Only one has the power to destroy me

No one else is strong enough for such a task
Except for me but you seem to enjoy me
So I will fly blind into the future now
To a new and unfamiliar destiny

I will be luminous and transcendental
And above all else I will always be free
To explore the primal and fundamental
Archetypes of this our shared humanity

Since I have been judged I am not judgmental
All I want to do is share the empathy
Which I have learned the hard way over these years
Love and lift you up and dry away your tears

I can do this since I know about crying
I know what it feels like to be all alone
With not enough living and too much dying
But let us rise up and make our world our own

If it is not for us then who is it for?
Those rich and rapacious monsters out for blood?
We know what is right and we are asking more
For people less for profit: the greater good

The concept today is little understood
We poor are poorer while ever before us
The rich are richer and smirking at us all
They will be surprised when they fall in the fall

No matter how hard they try to ignore us
Because above all else we are always free
To explore the primal and fundamental
Archetypes of this our shared humanity

This is how we are and how we have to be
All we have to do is share our empathy
Our overwhelming human propinquity
Will call to us always to rise and be free

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Feb 3, 2008, 5:05 am


The Unanswered Question

I know it could be the humidity
The lunar phase or the temperature
My biorhythm or my horoscope
Or maybe only my stupidity
That somehow I can feel something like hope
Here in the crosshairs of this aperture
Where the deathwatch is being kept for me

And yet I hear the sound of my own voice
Cry out from this my crucible of pain
"Though I have fallen I will rise again!"
I choose life now and must live with my choice
But can feel how my hand is unsteady
As my heart since how can I be ready
For what lies ahead where no one can see?

The sun has fallen too but now the night
Though we are fallen urges "rise again!"
As time comes for us both to lend our light
To rise from this my crucible of pain
Having chosen now to live with my choice
That somehow I can feel something like hope
(Or maybe only my stupidity)

The deathwatch will be frustrated (for now)
That I can feel something like hope somehow
As eyes adjust to unaccustomed sight
And as neglected wings start to unfold
The lotus blooms for always young or old
But as it blooms will I see I was right
Or maybe only my stupidity?

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Feb 1, 2008, 11:56 pm


Nothing Less Than Everything

This all-consuming
Silent suffering
Is to be a part
As blessing and curse
Of the heart of art
This which pays nothing
And which costs nothing
Less than everything

For better and worse
We are made to make

What we will fight for
More than anything
In the universe
Is just to be free
And to dream awake
As we ask for more
Quite simple really

What we want to do
Is make it better
Creating a door
Brushstroke by letter
From false into true
Breaking our fetter
To get through to you

And we may disperse
But we never break

We live in the dark
As misunderstood
Or live in the park
In your neighborhood
Each of us a part
As blessing and curse
Of the heart of art
This which pays nothing

And which costs nothing
Less than everything

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 30, 2008, 1:57 am


Running in Place

I

Part of me never became an adult
Having died and returned to life nineteen
And now I am fifty-three the result
Of being myself all these years between

Nor would I want it any other way
Because all I have lived and loved and seen
In a place I went while running in place
From a place I remembered to forget
Makes me the man I know so well today

A quite familiar face in any case
Although you might not quite have met me yet

II

I do better if I lay off the booze
And there are better options heaven knows
With so much to gain and so much to lose
I wake up each day to see how it goes
It seems to be going at least for now

As the windows open and the doors close
I muddle through as well as I know how
Some say it will never go well enough
But I have gone through much worse long before

I know how it can get when it gets rough
I can get through this and a whole lot more

III

The dirt is still there swept under the rug
Secrets lie buried out in the backyard
At the bottoms of grave-shaped holes once dug
To be forgotten although they died hard

Leave the rug alone and be careful where
You dig when you plant your garden in spring
No sense in digging up old troubles there
We have enough new ones for anything
From a place I forgot how to forget

A quite familiar place in any case
Although I might not quite have met it yet

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 29, 2008, 4:45 am


Past the Puppet Show

Here in this place it is the shadows we see
This world of confusion is an illusion
Demanding we embrace it desperately
A drama-queen illusion of confusion

And if it is real what does real really mean?

All I know is it never seemed real to me
Therefore I now find myself locked out of doors
Which were opened once for me respectfully
Or held for me on the way out of pity

I wonder if I could come knocking on yours

If I ever escape this unreal city
We could share the illusion of poetry
Wherein every word has been put in its place
So at least the confusion is orderly

I see something real in your heart by your face

Look past the illusion to see it in mine
We understand each other is all I know
I take our empathy as a hopeful sign
We might yet find meaning past the puppet show

Let us pull on their puppet strings as we go

They think they are the bosses bigshots and kings
These privileged pooh-bahs who reckon they rule
But they are only puppets dancing on strings
Looking important when the telephone rings

And each and every one of them is a fool

Here in this place it is the shadows we see
Shadows which would overshadow living things
But the spark in the dark is our empathy
Past the puppet show past the shadows we see

We might find in patches of light in between
What we mean by real and what we really mean

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 26, 2008, 10:19 pm


Twice Winner of the Breadline Milk Lottery

I have been to the breadline and I have returned
I was patient and polite while waiting but stood
Secretly hoping to win the milk lottery

Like I did last week with a purple stick of wood
Which this week was orange and yet I won again

One thing about the milk lottery I have learned
Is those who win it are the patient ones like me
Those in whom civility somehow survives pain

I saw a lot of friends in the breadline today
The most interesting people are all out there
And the few who will talk have the best things to say

The ones who are worst off are the ones who most care
For those with lighter loads on better roads than they

All of us who stand in the breadline learn to share
As suffering transfigures us and breaks the day
Just as hopeful in the breadline as anywhere

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 25, 2008, 5:40 pm


Lotus

We come and go before we know what we came or went for
Even as in the shrouded silence there waits something more
A sad sense of disquietude descends upon the mind
To think about it too much or to fear what one may find
It hurts to find how small our voice how little is our say

But the lotus unfolds as if for the first time today
And we each have a lot to say if only we knew how
But we have been hurt and misunderstood by so many
We have trouble believing we create reality
Especially having hardly experienced any

Could you go to the kitchen and cook up a bunch for me
Or must I figure it out alone at night in my bed
In those prisoned paralytic hours by the telephone
Which (quite apart from creditors!) abandons me alone?
By the time I create reality I might be dead

I think I will just have to muddle through at least for now
Since while seeking to be wise I became a fool instead
And I never could create reality anyway
Being too polite and passive to strut about like God
Though God would never strut and just the thought of that seems odd

We come and go before we know what we came or went for
A sad sense of disquietude descends upon the mind
To think about it too much or to fear what one may find
Even as in the shrouded silence there waits something more
As the lotus unfolds as if for the first time today

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 23, 2008, 10:57 pm


Cookies and Pink Propinquity

Cookies have recipes people do too
Some recipes include ingredients
Which fly in the face of obedience
And make one hate to be told what to do
But count them many if count them you must

A sparkling sprinkling of the fairy dust
Though beautiful quite natural and true
Is one ingredient which you can trust
To put the fun in fundamentalist

Love always seeks its dream and makes its vow
Some people seek a pink propinquity
Whatever one might or might not allow
And in spite of our great variety
One is just like one with a little twist

Cookies have recipes people do too
From dust to dust some sparkle in between
Though beautiful quite natural and true
The sparkling sprinkled best know what I mean

Our world is big enough for us to share
Pink for some people and cookies for each
If God is there then God must hear the prayer
Of everyone with no one out of reach
Love always seeks its dream and makes its vow

As if it were not obvious by now

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 23, 2008, 7:35 am


Clarity

Clarity
Appears to be
Rarity
So hard to see
If it appears at all

Like a small star
Bright flashing sharp and small
Falling from far
A star too far away
For me to see convincingly
Especially by day

At midnight when the world is dark
Though not for you for me
If I seek I might find your spark
Appear elusively
The single shard of hope I know
Of ever seeing clear
Three wonders I have wondered so:
Whence have I come? Where will I go?
What am I doing here?

Clarity
I think you are
Verity
An honest star
Ever only always true

And I will be out there tonight
Should you flash sharp and small
With open arms to reach for light
If there is hope at all
I wish I may I wish I might
I wish tonight and wait for you

Come clarity and make me free
To see and dream to be and do
Embrace me in epiphany
Tonight to feel the real and right
My being clarified to light

Come falling star and fall on me
O rarity of verity
O riddle of the reason
For my uncertain season
I wish tonight and wait for you
A silver streak across the blue
Enlightening me through and through
Spark in the dark consuming me
Come falling star of clarity

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 21, 2008, 11:04 pm


Butterflies

I

The circus is returning to Turkmenistan
I would like to go and see it as soon as I can
The circus is allowed now but a travel ban?
The circus and I will return with a travel plan

II

How do you know
Or
Where do you go
For
Enlightenment?

So few today
Can
Take time to pray:
Man
Needs nourishment

III

If we are the only
Ones here
Then why
Should we be made lonely
By fear
Of high
Delight?

I would like to unite
With you
To try and find the light
Of true
Human propinquity

Please could you come with me?

IV

The rain has washed us (hobos) in from out
The poor of us are fat the rich are thin
But I am poor and thin so what about
This life we start to end when we begin?

Born upside down we always stay that way
The same
So drop a piece of gold in my tin cup

This has been such a lovely night today
I came
All this way down here just to get washed up

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 20, 2008, 9:03 pm


Sunday Morning Veterans

Old men and women in their Sunday best
Embalmed and ready for a funeral
Flung frightened from the dying restaurant
Now brace themselves for this their weekly test

Having struggled with stall and urinal
Bent double blinking into light to haunt
The stumbling sidewalk to the parking lot
Of Cadillacs and Lincolns with their flags
Reminding them of wars which they once fought
Fumbling with wallets and wrestling with bags
Fight to keep themselves together because
Today ought to be like last Sunday was

I smell the mothballs as they stagger by

A victory parade of heroes past
Who know this Sunday might well be their last
When our eyes meet we understand and smile
Although we weep within and feel the shame
Of how we are and have been for awhile
We know each other then if not by name
Mortality connects from eye to eye
We march as march we must until we die

They return my salute then wonder where
They left those cars by which somehow they came
(But it was memory which brought them there)
These Sunday morning veterans and I
As comrades know all combat is the same

We shake our heads at that and then we sigh
And wait until next week to say goodbye

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 20, 2008, 12:50 am


Breadline Blues

(by a ninth cousin of Langston Hughes)

Standing in the breadline
Forgotten by fancy (former?) friends
Stubbornly starving (doing just fine)
They have their means but I have my ends

Keep those pearls from the swine
Since they
Would only step on them anyway
God knows they have theirs but just let me have mine

(Not disinterested parties I daresay)

With the defenseless no one defends
Where nobody can spare a dime
Today
For poetry nor paradigm

Standing in the breadline
Left to marvel at the mystery
Of why
Suddenly they choose to be rejecting me
(Punitive and disproportionate)
They have chosen the wrong side of history
(Literarily unfortunate)

As I
Falling in (fallen out?) standing there
Politely with a part in my hair
Standing in the breadline

Start

To

Cry

(But by God I will never let them see)

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 18, 2008, 11:10 pm


Within the Labyrinth

The way it is today is not the way
It has always been nor will always be
It is only the way it is today
Nor is it the only reality

You might want to leave but might as well stay
Await another possibility
So as not to miss the end of this play
In which you take the stage alongside me

Sometimes I wonder if we really are
Here or if this is all an illusion
Or I wonder if I wandered too far
Into a labyrinth of confusion

But then what else am I supposed to do?
I follow my nose to see where it goes
It might still lead to a dream come true
Both best and worst is that nobody knows

Until it happens when it is too late
And when it happens is when we find out
Nobody wins an argument with fate
So we have nothing to worry about

We have to see what happens when it does
And not before nor after only then
Never mind what will be nor how it was
We were happy once and will be again

Within the labyrinth at every turn
I realize I really have no choice
But to be myself as I live and learn
And asking questions I have found my voice

I have no idea what else I might find
Or what I might lose and yet I have this
Some people tell me I have lost my mind
And I tell them how it felt like a kiss

We act and react we watch ourselves walk
And we wonder where we are walking to
We write our own roles we hear ourselves talk
And we wonder who we are talking to
Sometimes I want to leave but I will stay
Await another possibility
So as not to miss the end of this play

I look out to the audience and see
To my surprise a face which I know well
There is no one out there except for me
The critic who makes this heaven or hell

While up on the stage I wander between
And how it will end nobody can tell
But my fellow actors know what I mean
Since like our audience we are the same

We try to leave us laughing as we go
Our only difference being the name
We give it as we go on with the show
With no one to credit no one to blame
Except ourselves but then we never know
Within the labyrinth at every turn
Awaits another line for us to learn

I have to see what happens when it does
And not before nor after only then
Never mind what will be nor how it was
I was happy once and will be again

Within the labyrinth at every turn
I must be myself as I live and learn

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 16, 2008, 9:45 pm


A Curious Heart in the Sunshine

A curious heart in the sunshine
Receives what the afternoon gives
Even a sad old heart like mine
Enjoys how the other half lives
As I look up and they look down
At the yin and yang of my town

In each other we are complete
As one complements the other
Who choose or choose not to compete
And I (as the black sheep brother)
Put it all into poetry
For them (but I save some for me)

If you are reading this you know
At least a little of my fate
Some fancy folk would see me go

They ought to know I have a date
With all of them (whom I love so)
I need to be here nor be late
Since very soon is my next show
This is how I make my living
I get what I get by giving

Whether or not they pay I stay
And even in pain I remain
Because this is where I belong
I have always been here (if queer)
The afternoon gave me this song
They need to learn to share this day

(If you are reading this you know
At least a little of my fate
Some fancy folk would see me go)

But I will teach them anyway
(Again and again and again)
A curious heart in the sunshine
Is one able to see things clear
Even a sad old heart like mine
Can see the truth: they need me here

As I look up and they look down
At the yin and yang of my town

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 16, 2008, 12:28 am


Oh God (Are You Still There?)

Borne by nightmare and blown ashore
To darkened day bloodstained by dream
Frozen inside this silent scream
I cannot rise to bear one more
Cycle of fear's insanity
Sleeping waking weeping breaking

And so I pray if silently
Through my cold sweat through my shaking:
Oh God (are you still there?) help me!

Please tell me I am not alone
Kiss these my disappointed eyes
With hope to help me realize
You have been watching (have you known?)
Stoop down to heal me set me free
So it no longer hurts to be

And so I pray if silently
Through my cold sweat through my shaking:
Oh God (are you still there?) help me!

Make this my broken heart your own
And let it bloom a butterfly
Up to the sun before I die
Lift me again to love to trust
You Lord of life beyond my dust
To rise once more since rise I must

And so I pray if silently
Through my cold sweat through my shaking:
Oh God (are you still there?) help me!

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 13, 2008, 2:10 am


This Quixotic Quest Called Poetry

Nobody believes in me except for God and you
But as long as he will lead me and you will read me
I have everything I need to make my dream come true
They used to call me lazy now they call me crazy
I admit to the latter but it does not matter
Nothing can stop me from doing what I came to do
I was sent and so I went and here I am today
To write my songs and right my wrongs: this is the way I pray

I cannot see the road ahead but simply follow
The steps the living and the dead have traced before me
With the certain tread of sky above and earth below
Beside the sea and through the fire into destiny
The elements in equipoise God and you and this
Quixotic quest called poetry which is nothing less
Than the reason I exist this madness I confess
This existential ecstasy which we share like a kiss

Share with me please bear with me stay with me through this night
God and I believe in you: come let us look for light

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 10, 2008, 7:06 pm


Poetic License

I live on the knife of life not the fence
Each day is a dangerous trip for me
While each night is an existential fight
Wrestling with the angel of destiny

Life has been frightening hard and intense
Looking in dark and deep places for light
Some drugs some alcohol some decadence
But mostly stubborn striving for the best
Doing what I do with all of my might
Which I pray God might mitigate the rest

I will not complain nor need I explain
And somehow I think things might turn out right
In any case right for my poetry
Let them call the rest poetic license

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 8, 2008, 7:30 am


Without into Within

Those who believe in it keep insisting
On the reality I keep resisting
Because it could simply never be mine
Though apparently for them it seems just fine
As their only way for me to break my fall

And I suppose it makes sense of a kind
To them anyway never mind to my mind
So they relentlessly keep persisting
But it is an argument no one can win
How could one imagine one size would fit all?

This leads me to ask of reality
How many are you? Have you one to fit me?
And when you happen when do you begin?
To me reality seems a size too small
When fitted from without into within

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII











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