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Selected Poems of Steven Curtis Lance

Displaying Poems 1551 thru 1575 of 2837 Poems

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Mar 28, 2008, 7:35 am


The usefulness of a window or door
Like an empty pot or the hub of a wheel
Lies in the absence these things manifest
Where to be is not to be there less is more

Wherein emptiness is put to the test
Of utility in an absence as real
As a wall or what might go into a pot
And where the spokes converge the wheel is not

The best things ever said are those which never were

Embraced by silence love speaks eloquently
In communication curvilinear

Our emptiness is filled by our propinquity

We find ourselves here where little is clear
Except that it is useful for us to be
A window or a door which opens near
A pot to hold all potentiality

Toward the hub of a wheel we know well but
Only as hope yet our hope no matter what
Of coming together convergently
Here at the clear hub now where the wheel is not

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 26, 2008, 12:38 am

Good-Looking People

Good-looking people have easier lives
They seem to have less trouble than I do
With good-looking houses cars husbands wives
Children pets collectibles and treasures
And then when they want to try something new
Friends with whom to seek forbidden pleasures
Just be good-looking and good things ensue

Sometimes they get in trouble but so what?
When they get out of jail they can go back
To a soft place in a good-looking rut
In their good-looking world as sweet as pie

I wish that I could be good-looking too
But that would be the least of things I lack
I would like some health care before I die
(Do I even dare to dream of dental?)
Though sick I cannot afford to know why
I look pretty bad and I have mental
Quirks (for example: writing poetry)

Is it too late for plastic surgery?
And even if it is not I forgot
That half-a-million figure is in red
Which means not what I have but I have not

So I will just take a shower instead
And be glad my three children look so good
The good-looking genes skipped right over me
My parents looked like models cool and tall
But for reasons not clearly understood
All their good looks passed right over my head
I look like a walking catastrophe

Yet sired good-looking people after all

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 24, 2008, 10:11 pm

Then and When and Now

We might not have been happy when
We thought so since we were
Posed to be as supposed but then
Supposed is never clear
So squinting unsurprised we see
Life squinting back a blur

And this point of infinity
Is what we know as here

So here we are half through the night
Half sleeping half awake
Our day half dark our night half light
And in this give and take
We end up getting only what we gave
And then we disappear without a trace
Except the dust of us at best a grave
Yet warm in someone's heart our smiling face

I believe we are happy then
At first and last and best
The sun will hatch a new day when
It nestles in the west

Then is the time for us to see
What when would not allow
And this point of infinity
Is what we know as now

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 23, 2008, 2:50 am


Ultimately how it will be is you and me
Little else really matters anyway
I have waited for you as you tried to break through
And you have broken through at last today

Congratulations my friend

Let us celebrate the end
Of what we both recognize as the beginning
Of an endgame we know is ours for the winning

Ultimately how it will be is one great we
Across the world and through the universe
As we transcend ourselves into eternity
We hope for better since we have known worse

All we ever have is hope

We never have enough rope
With which to hang ourselves nor restrain anyone
From hanging us as we shine flashlights at the sun

When the sun goes down our beams will shine forever
Though small and weak to shine for all to see
As we wait here on the brink of never
Alone with hope and with our lonely will to be

Ultimately how it will be is you and me
Little else really matters anyway
I have waited for you as you tried to break through
And you have broken through at last today

As we begin at the end
I celebrate you my friend

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 22, 2008, 8:55 pm

The Secret

for the Laughing Daffodil

Is it ever too late
To enter a gate
Of a garden which encloses
A fountain which discloses
Whatever secret it should choose to show?

All it would show is what you already know
You could only see it as you see fit

What I propose instead is that you be "it":
Gate and garden fountain and secret too

You have everything you need to succeed
With all of the universe inside of you

It is never too late
To become a gate
Of a garden which encloses
A fountain which discloses
You are the secret should you choose to know

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 21, 2008, 3:39 am

Existence Without an Apology

Is it just our being human to wait
For some to become like a caution sign
Warning each morning on the breakfast plate
Of fate? By theirs these represent the fate
Of many as represented by mine
For example as I depreciate
In value to me but I hope not you

I deviate from that conformity
Where what is brightest is not what is best
But chosen frozen and waiting for me
Predestined to death by love and by hate
Deranged by dystopic deformity

The time is as short as the hour is late
As we consume ourselves unconsciously
And wonder why we do the things we do
I wonder about the bad and the good

I wonder as I watch them watching me
As though spectators for some sport of blood
The entertainment of an afternoon
Embracing catastrophe fire and flood

Can they not see it come for them? That soon
They may not be secure behind their gates
When vengeance arises red with the moon
In its existential enormity?

Revenge is as impotent as the rage
Of the doomed who just do not know it yet
It seems to animate this angry age
For those who have forgotten to forget

A bottle of courage bottled-up for
Those made too afraid to fight anymore
By hurt upon failure night after day
By day who wish night would take them away
But who by night never got very far
And who never know how lonely they are

Some go on to become so I have heard
Raw-meat volunteers for the thought-police
Those who caution against the written word
And who fold spindle mutilate and crease

Those who fear the writing of poetry
As symptomatic of insanity
And never mind all of that music then
On which I fixed my young years fixedly
Which turned out to be the ruin of me

A cautionary figure of how when
We give our all to something still we die
But by dying live to embody why
We have to do our cautionary best
Why we must do no less to be content
To bless at our last as first we were blessed

As many have cautioned many have meant
There is no escape from the now for we
Who live this game and make these moves as pawns
In black and white chessboard eternity

Like a lifetime of disappearing dawns
With one great dusk coming when none may see
Less judgment than simply the close of day
Now is the forever of destiny

A candle winks out in infinity
A prophet writes of God and has him say
"Vengeance is mine" he says "I will repay"
A caution finds the best revenge to be
Existence without an apology

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 17, 2008, 11:25 pm

She Was a Star

"here's looking at you, kid"

She subsisted on beer and cigarettes
Never ate a bite as far as I knew
But lived better and had fewer regrets
Than me sure as hell and probably you
Living on love and a liquid diet

Dying young and living life black and blue
The good way as she used to wink and say

Back then if you knew you just kept quiet
And no one knew anything anyway
Certainly not what had nothing to do
With canasta nor the horse race at hand
Or shopping or swapping a tale or two

One day they would find she had lost her mind
But I found her easy to understand
And I loved that way she played her guitar

I loved her to death and she knew I knew
As she blew that kiss then left me behind
That she was some-bod-y: she was a star

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 17, 2008, 3:19 am

This Fountain of Us

for Mike Escobedo

The fountain in the spring belongs to anyone
Who needs it in this bright midmorning of the year

We approach this embodiment of memory
Its waters emblematic of our presence here
As through a looking-glass of hope in which to see
What we might do arising from what we have done

And over and under it goes as we wonder
Where we might be next spring and what our days might bring
Just like our parents did and all who came before

All we can do is hope and maybe make a wish
For our kids and us and better understanding
While other people's wishes sparkle in the dish
Which holds our hopes to be drawn up to dance once more

This fountain for all seasons is for everyone
Who needs a penny-wish or wants a memory

The pennies of our memories shine in the sun
Reminding us that we are here and not only
That we are here but also that we need to be
For our kids and us and better understanding

The wishes of all of us sparkle in the dish
Which holds our hopes to be drawn up to dance once more
Wherever our spring whatever our days might bring

What we feel today is what will mean most of all
When we feel confused by the chill of November
The fountain in the spring is what we remember
This fountain of us: winter summer spring and fall

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 16, 2008, 6:55 am

Trajectory of Tragedy

On a trajectory of tragedy
Or else on an ascent to angelhood
I map out the matter of martyrdom
A concept imperfectly understood
Especially by me applied to me

I am not now nor have I ever been
A man of a mind to worry about
Other minds understanding what I mean
I speak when spoken to but will not shout
These things people shout at me constantly

Perhaps they are warning me to watch out
Perhaps they can see what is happening
That horrid inevitability
Which so darkly dominates everything
When dream is run down by reality

It is not that I need to be a saint
It is that I must do my uttermost
Impractical improbable and quaint
Impossible in the end as a ghost
On a trajectory of tragedy

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 15, 2008, 7:07 pm

The Brink of Never

If I speak in riddles it is only because
It hurts too much to tell you how it really was
And even though I was there I never quite knew
What to think of what my young self was going through

Such thoughts as I have are visual memories
Which resist translation into words such as these
By my old self today looking back on it all
Some parts of which appeal while most others appall
An unfinished memoir better left unbegun

A long and hard and painfully protracted fall
In suicidal spiral through the bright spring sun
But I fall free as you will see when I have done
What I came here to do and that it was better
Spoken in riddles than written in a letter

Neither sage nor salesman I am not so clever
As to think I could describe the brink of never

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 13, 2008, 8:45 pm

Emblem and Anthem

Honk louder for our protest than for theirs
Gliding on grease and plastic on pavement
Scream "woo-hoo!" at your TV from the stairs
Emblem and anthem of your enslavement

Big brother as you know is watching you
With one eye on his applause-o-meter
In the form of millions of well-fed drones
Hoping that you will be a repeater

The volunteers are standing by the phones
Rank on rank and ready with smiles of steel
Though they are not actually volunteers
But those sworn to make this unreal life real

So they must be strong social engineers
Though unsung unloved and quite classified
Who listen so well since they are all ears
And are immortal because they have died
When they gave their lives for your liberty
To teach you that freedom is slavery
Mechanical slaves of the agency

If I knew what to tell you why would I
Presume to preclude your own exploration?
And if it were my secret why should I
Not keep it for my own edification?

Yet if I knew what to tell you I would
Should I find an extra answer to share
Though so far I have never understood
Not even close though I hope to get there

Something good might happen to me today
Though it started off depressing as hell
At noon I feel almost hopeful (daresay)
That my tragic comedy might just sell

"Plaudite amici!" Jingle all the way!
When it comes to "commedia finita est"
Gliding on grease and plastic on pavement
Remember to applaud but then forget the rest
Scream "woo-hoo!" at your TV from the stairs
We never got ours but they sure got theirs
Emblem and anthem of our enslavement

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 12, 2008, 12:27 am

Finish Line Blues

When you are at the end where do you start?
When you have nothing left what do you use?
When the race is over should you still try
To reach that finish line before you die
Exercising futility to choose
To go down with dignity in your heart?

So many questions with answers so few
And if an answer comes it terrifies
Nobody cares about you except you
No matter how they seem to sympathize

I can feel my life bleeding out slowly
With precious little hope of getting through
This obstacle course of indignity
Which is not the race I entered at all
I can see death waiting impatiently
But I mean to make my mark where I fall

So I live alone with my loneliness
And a houseful of people who mean well
Not one of whom could ever know nor guess
That I am no longer there but in hell

Exercising futility I choose
To go down with dignity in my heart
And though the race is over I will try
To reach that finish line before I die
Though I am at the end still I will start
When you have nothing left what can you lose?

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 10, 2008, 11:03 pm


2 March 1980

You wore spring daisies in your hair that day
What was it and how did it slip away?

The Christmas cards
The whole nine yards
In hand in hand

Neither of us will ever understand
If there is understanding to be done
Today as yesterday you were the one

Not "were" but are
If a bright star
Is and will be
Though veiled awhile by my insanity

Whatever it is we knew what it was
And did it matter? Yes it did (and does)

We might not know where
It went
Nor want to go there
If sent
Back (since the clock went clockwise and we knew)
But I was there (and might be still) with you

Mother of my children wife of my youth
Maria and Stevie and Teddy are
The proof of the existence of that star
Reflected in their eyes it looks like truth

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 10, 2008, 2:00 am

Private Mass

Sunday morning: I could feel religious
But then again too much so to join in
Manhandling the miracle of the mass
So I will just sit with the homeless now
Panhandling for miracles on the grass
Like finding a quarter somebody lost
Writing as honestly as I know how
While keeping to myself how much it cost

Here as everywhere that white-collar sin
Of the influential and prestigious
Redeems the rapists of the ruling class
Wiping their smug souls clean within the hour
With minimal inconvenience to all
So they can rush back to wielding the power
Which binds us in the darkness one and all
They own everything including the priest

We pass no protestant collection plates
But velvet alms-bags stuffed with envelopes
Unrattled by the loose change of the least
By these our masters would control our fates
And since they own them freely dash the hopes
Of those who only ask that they might live
But the best lives now are sold for money
The rest of us just want God to forgive

The joke is on us no longer funny
The priest just another snout at the trough
If they could they would not let me be there
I cannot pass the means-test given here
Nor could my Lord so we have taken off
But I think he is with me everywhere
Except back there with those people I fear
We will stay where life is free and sunny

Out among the broken where the wind blows
While the fat and lazy priest goes to brunch
To root out any crumbs which got away
His snout smells money and he has a hunch
That the swine will be first on Judgment Day
They have theirs now but someday I want mine
"The first shall be last" I heard Jesus say
And it is he who gives the bread and wine

His body and blood unite with my own
His priest went to brunch and we are alone

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 9, 2008, 1:06 am

Two-for-a-Dollar and One Free Song

to honor my friend Sarah


I have not become what I am to be
(I mean to be better moments from now)
But I am becoming gradually
Such as the limits of spacetime allow
Unto those of human mortality
Which limits I have embraced as somehow
That individual sufficiency
Of what I need and what I would ask for

So I will become what I am to be
Beyond which limits I may ask no more


Hot dogs seem made of such horrible things
That two-for-a-dollar or not it brings
Me to eat something else for lunch instead
(They are grey where they once used to be red!)

In my heart I am not a carnivore
But in the most basic necessity
Two-for-a-dollar has worked out for me
I will eat less even as I pay more
If you will forgive me those moments of
Life interfering with the law of love


I am starting to look like Howard Hughes
Not the young daredevil nor the old boss
But how you hear about him at the end

Looking like that thanks for being my friend
Sharing your victory with me (in loss)
Shown openminded by the friends you choose

But what am I going to do when all
Of the money has been burned through at last
So that I have to fall hard when I fall
As I cling with all my strength to the past?


Mere strength does not matter anymore now
We have become so sophisticated
Our strength sublimated to style somehow
By fashion we are fated and mated
Two-by-two as we dance aboard the ark

Not quite as we had anticipated
In our curiosity (in the dark)
But these are shining moments of our days
The ones we live to remember always
As only now forever undated


This is that which can never be rated
When we come together to strike a spark
And feel something nobody could deny
Some think they know life although they do not
(Especially if they need to ask why)

I remember some magic some forgot
Or which perhaps some never really knew
How life should be heaven before we die
If you feel unloved (too?) I could love you
(There is no answer to that question why)

We have forever right now for as long
As two-for-a-dollar and one free song

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 6, 2008, 10:21 pm

Out Here

Being homeless is a hell of a way
To take the air or get a tan or stay
Attuned to the inside-outness of things

Along with the upside-downness this brings
To the perspective of the indoor-bred
Forced thus to think about each night each day
When a bench in the park becomes a bed
And no one gives you orders anymore
Where a lost life becomes a memory

You have to forget to ever be free
So fight to forget what you once fought for
Which is easier than remembering
The shame clinging to you like dew all night
Forgetting seems the most important thing

Being homeless is a hell of a way
To live but more popular every day
There is more to it than just being poor

And although often caused by addiction
Sometimes some existential conviction
Makes someone feel called to go wandering
In search of inscrutable destiny
Blow with the wind and leave nothing behind
But traces which few non-homeless can see

No roof but the skull which prisons the mind
(And maybe that bottle under the tree)
I never want this to happen to me
Yet there are those who come through it all right
If you are home stay in and lock the door

Lest you end up out here remembering
Forgetting seems the most important thing

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 5, 2008, 2:54 am

Forgotten Awhile


"Never use that fine end of your pocket comb"
Grandpa cautioned me as we were walking home
While not doubting his admonishing intent
I nonetheless have no idea what he meant

Perhaps he feared those tiny teeth injurious
Though I may never know now I am curious

Should I ever see him again I might ask
Beyond such misunderstanding as might mask
This mystery of the fine end of the comb
Should we meet again having found our way home


I am new to the zoo but here I am now
Wet behind the ears wearing short years long
But scheming and plotting to escape somehow
As I will do when I finish my song

Why do those old lions look at me that way
With something which looks for the world like pity
Not for the lifers but the daytrippers they
Who are swept each night from this unreal city?

Come and wash off the stain of me with a hose
The zoo is the zoo as (now) everyone knows


This is a snapshot of your existence:
You will get there despite your persistence
And then when you get there you might arrive
Where Charlie surfs and you come home alive

You saddled up and went out on patrol
Without knowing what you were looking for
So they got your body but not your soul

The time returns to saddle up once more
And should you spy me aiming from a tree
Just know that I am not your enemy


I combed with the wide end for all of those years
Until my hair went grey and my whiskers white
I combed and I combed but did I get it right
(I guess maybe not if I still have these fears)?

I finally have to use the fine end now
(Duly admonished) out of necessity
I could never follow anyone but me
There was no one in front of me anyhow

Deep in the jungle forgotten awhile
Walk in those boots if for only a mile

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Mar 3, 2008, 7:55 am


An infinite variety of weather
Unites in fragmentation we who wander
A constancy of change to bring together
Those of us shut outside here left to ponder
Our situation as those who do not fit
Within so find without our when and whether

Liberation for those who are used to it
The challenge of freedom for those who are not
Both ready to soar on tried or untried wings

Our task is to remember what we forgot
As the living epistles of hidden things
Forced to root for our truffles under the sky
We have found what some less adventurous sought
Intuitively in life's interlocked rings
The keys to the cosmos are kept in the heart
Where we found them and keep them by asking why

Not everyone can see such important things
But to embrace their existence is to start
To be embraced by the magic of the day
Which though it surprises comes with a warning

Yet that which is closest seems furthest away
A thousand dimensions in front of our nose

If tomorrow comes it will be that morning
About which this night has had so much to say
When at last we might learn the name of the rose
And we will be ready because we were there
Out under the sky in a change of weather
The further we go the closer together
Without but within nowhere yet everywhere

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Feb 29, 2008, 9:24 am


Hear in the sound of fresh water flowing
Smell in the steam rising from today's bread
See in the round of a young womb growing
Taste in the strawberry luscious and red
The world turn once again to hope today

The waves crash home and cannot be turned back
The tide has turned and will not turn away
Diamond stars ice the night's velvet black
Only to melt into gold with the dawn
When the stars wink out with the moon to play

While there is life hope will never be gone
Despite disappointment dare to believe
The law of love is cause to celebrate
The universe laid for us to receive
As paradise presented on our plate

And if you can make an angry man smile
Just for a moment and against his will
He might come to think about this awhile
Minding the miracle of being still
And life might find another pair of hands

Unclenching from fists embracing to love
Reaching from a heart which now understands
His hand is meant to fit yours like a glove
As yours is meant to fit mine like my own
The world turns all and none need turn alone

Hear in the sound of fresh water flowing
Smell in the steam rising from today's bread
See in the round of a young womb growing
Taste in the strawberry luscious and red
The world turn once again to hope today

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Feb 26, 2008, 8:25 am

Happy Birthday

This is the day you came to join us here
Whose yearly anniversary we mark
Remembered as when a comet came near
A close encounter with a scythe of spark
As welcome interruption of the night
By something more important than we knew
This is the day of the coming of you

Sometimes you wonder about all the fuss
How much of it is heat how much is light
And if you ever gave permission to
Anyone that you should be sent to us
Yet now we would not be whole without you
And so we know in our hearts it is right
That you came as this shooting star we see

To burn through the sky your own answer why
A bridge of light marks your trajectory
Your fireworks blazing a trail of day
Where customary cloud has burned away
To show you really are a shooting star
Something far more important than you knew
This is the day of the coming of you

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Feb 17, 2008, 11:45 pm

Our Own Reality

When what-if and then how what-if might be
As effect of a cause no one can know
Keep me awake I try to keep in mind
The future we dread ahead as we go
Becomes the past when we leave it behind

But if you need ask you need not ask me
We each must find our own reality

The past goes fast the future comes too slow
So no one notices the present now
Slip out through a crack in the back nor how
The longer we live the clearer we see
That we are trapped within a tragedy
Heroes and villains as fate will allow
Protagonists of this dying dumbshow
As agonists often in agony

When what-if and how what-if might be then
Beyond the cause and its effect between
When all has come and been and all has gone
Dreams dreamed life lived love lost and found again
When eyes must close to bear what they have seen
Night shades itself in shadow from the dawn
Our time will come though I cannot say when
We come to go and so our life goes on

One thing alone is known and satisfies
All existential questions with a thump
I am not very good at prophecy
But I can tell you everybody dies
So rather than sit on the fence I jump

You want as much as I do to be free
We each must find our own reality

+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMVIII

Feb 15, 2008, 12:46 am

Four for Four

St. Valentine's Day MMVIII


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


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?


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


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


Displaying Poems 1551 thru 1575 of 2837 Poems

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