Login |   | 
Login:  
Home                     About           Forum           Active Topics

Search: 
Selected Poems of Steven Curtis Lance

Displaying Poems 1526 thru 1550 of 2785 Poems

Pages:                     10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62   63   64   65   66   67   68   69   70   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93   94   95   96   97   98   99   100   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112 


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








Jan 6, 2008, 7:47 pm


Paradox

I who have little see one who has none
And wonder which is the fortunate one
Our coin has one side for bad one for good
One of us falling one of us leaning
I have never understood the meaning
If there is meaning to be understood

I look white yet I am a cousin of
Langston Hughes in a paradox I love
A family tree of poetic wood
With T. S. Eliot and others too
Possibly even a cousin of you
My neighbor in our human neighborhood

I am going through a terrible time
But others are going through even worse
I try to line my lifelines up by rhyme
In my syllable-counting universe
The only place I have control is here
Where poetry is fashioned from my fear

When times were better I would sing of light
Of drawing a sword if only in pen
But now there seems no sword to put things right
Although I draw it again and again
In pencil imperfectly and erased
To leave little but bitter aftertaste

And so I struggle stumbling though the dark
A cousin of poets who would be one
Still trying to protect such little spark
As left me until a fire has begun
At which time I might sing of light once more
To do again what I once did before

If there is meaning to be understood
Will I ever understand the meaning?
Am I falling now or only leaning?
The coin has one side for bad one for good
I with my little see one who has none
And wonder which is the fortunate one

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 3, 2008, 5:16 pm


Compassion Fatigue

Those things you think so therefore think you see
Concrete with your own eyes as though complete
As how it is so far from me so near
To you which you then call reality
An inescapable cage at the zoo
Which you find conclusive so you repeat
As though I have to hear them slow to hear
Stay stubbornly invisible to me
You say it is hopeless but I will not

I know your numbers add the way they do
And threaten as you say no matter what
Then you add your threat of subtracting you
Which you will insist is not a threat but
Merely how merely my life has to be
I still remember one thing you forgot
I still believe my miracle will come
You say it is hopeless but I will not

If you have no hope left I still have some
You tried to help me and you give up now
I love you and I thought you loved me too
But I have to make my last stand somehow
And now I find myself out of your league
You tire of me now as of compassion
With warm words yet with eyes so cold so clear
I am alone again in my fashion
You say it is hopeless but I will not

Although as you know I was once like you
You judge me as unworthy to be here
I fell through the cracks down out of your league
Although before you were right here I was
Now a victim of compassion fatigue
Still I remain if victimized in pain
Although judged as unworthy to be here
If just to show the world (and you) again

You say it is hopeless but I will not

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII








Jan 1, 2008, 12:30 am


Birthday Meditation

31 December MMVII

It was better than it could have been and
Yet it could have been better than it was
But what it was and is (which is my hand
As dealt me) was to become my because

The answer which I came to understand
To "Why am I here?" My quest and my cause
Is but to leave it better than I found
It waiting for me to take up and be
(If sometimes squalid at other times grand)
Whatever I want now as I set free
My destiny found lying on the ground
As a wrapped gift by the side of the road

This compass which tells me where I am bound
How best to bear the burden share the load
Life gave me I must wear upon my back
This knowledge I need in order to grow
And how to love and live with what I lack
Or rather without what others might know
Who spoke into the dark without a sound
And told nothing since no one told them so

But that was back before I came around
I mean to make some noise before I go
And not go quietly into the dark
If there is to be fire I am the spark

Have I lived long enough? (How about you?)
I have not yet learned how to be a man
Despite what I have done and what I do
So I must keep doing the best I can
Although it might not be enough at last
And not go quietly into the dark
Into the dreary dustbin of the past
If there is to be fire: I am the spark

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVII








Dec 29, 2007, 10:33 pm


Water Music

My ashes soon will join the sea
I always enjoyed the beach
And passed my Sea Stones out for free
Such as I could afford to
And though I subtly sought to teach
Daresay I never bored you

I was not much but what I was
Brought us more credit than blame
I hope you will remember me
And smile when you say my name

My reach fulfilled its grasp because
My nights and days were the same
I saw the stars in squadrons storm
To scrub the sky and scour me
I sang the sea informed by form
And felt its waves empower me

My own Ash Wednesday sacrament
Will settle to the seabed
The equipoise we spoke and meant
In all those poems we read

As death from life is different
I will go to sea instead
And when I do remember please
That joy of understanding
When we shared poems such as these
Hearts pure and undemanding

Beneath the lamplight late at night
There was magic in the air
We spoke our hearts and heard them right
Now to be heard everywhere

Keep those old chewed-up manuscripts
I gave you and think of me
Poets like us are not for crypts
But to be part of the sea

My life your love our sea as one
In true triangularity
Will meet in the seaweed's tangle
Red seaweed dusted grey with me
Where jellyfish streamers dangle
Then rock the boat with a party

If when you pour some of me blows away
Sea breeze will breathe me in and it will say:

"We have a taste for poetry
As he who went to sea at last
Borne on my breath and carried free
Into the future from the past
The elements in harmony"

The sea will sing informed by form
Eternity empower me
The stars will swirl down in a swarm
Bright fireflies to devour me
As glorious life victorious loves me free

My beautiful children all I love you so
Celebrate your lives and mine when I must go

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVII








Dec 27, 2007, 9:30 pm


Son of a Gun

to Amanda Cardona for her twenty-fifth birthday

They say he first worked for the bad guys then
He saw he could work for the good guys when
They called him up not caring right from wrong
So slaughtered for both sides silent and strong
Since all he ever wanted was to kill
And this hunger was shared by other men

When he found out the good guys were worse than
The bad guys then he asked what kind of man
He was and his answer was to go mad
As honest killers have done and do still
His heart and mind broke beyond good and bad
Beyond the black breakwater of the will

I can finally understand him now
But used to seek to summon him somehow
To disappear imagined enemies
Who were not amenable to reason
One of my absent father fantasies
A childhood nightmare of killing season

And so my father Wallace Dean Lance was
A hitman for the cause of just because
Which seemed I suppose like reason enough
And now he is dead as I will die too
Should such time come as I can bear no more
Until then that which keeps me here is you

You and a certain curiosity
My hitman father passed along to me
Since I am here with my ticket paid for
Past pain to remain until our play ends
To place my rhyme in space and time and soar
Because unlike my father I have friends

Not friends with connections nor friends with guns
People like that are not friends anyway
Who go away when the going gets tough
But friends like you who are genuine ones
With whose help I am able to get through
The night that I might live a better day

Son of a hitman bad good and then mad
My father's life seems meaningless and sad
And though I have killed no one that you know
It is hard to stay and easy to go
Meaning costs more in the market these days
If I could afford some I would be glad

Balancing here on the blade of always
I mean to make atonement for the sin
Which burns in the blood of my family
And would prevent me before I begin
But there is a certain stubbornness in
A son of a hitman a son like me

If it can be done then I am the one
To balance the wheel: a son of a gun

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVII








Dec 24, 2007, 4:39 pm


Healing Waters

I found out last night I have lost everything
I lie on my bed and my cat lies on me
Through a weeping window which used to be mine
I can hear the Christmas bells of my church ring
I sigh here instead by a cup of cold tea
With faint hope of favor human or divine

Yet faint though it is it is hope just the same
Its spark fanned by the fact that people read me
Some who have suffered have come to trust my name
I hope they know I need them if they need me
And I feel like they can understand my shame

As I must leave my home now and slip away
Some other hurt hearts share this hurt poetry
These sharp and bloody shards of who I once was
Of who I am and we are even today
We are not dead yet and I still have my cat
My readers know how much I thank God for that

I will get up and go to the Plaza now
A place as improbable as me because
It survived through purity of heart somehow
And it only exists to make things better
At a time when it seems things could be no worse

Stray drops from the fountain mingle with my tears
There is love and beauty in the universe
Teardrop by teardrop and letter by letter
No matter what we win and lose through the years
Healing waters of the only home I know
Kiss my face one more time before I must go

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVII











Email: 



Displaying Poems 1526 thru 1550 of 2785 Poems

Pages:                     10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62   63   64   65   66   67   68   69   70   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93   94   95   96   97   98   99   100   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112 









[ Back ]


NEUROSCIENCE, CONSCIOUSNESS, BRAIN, MIND, MIND-BRAIN, NEUROINFORMATICS, NEURAL NETWORKS, BRAIN ATLASES





Home     |     About     |    Forum     |    Feedback  


Copyright BrainMeta. All rights reserved.
Terms of Use