song of the queen

The Photographer

Mooce — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 06:10:46 +0000

to tell a lie
to tell the truth
is to let you die
between tongue and tooth
to walk away
the tide will rise
to tie you down
to hear your cries
to deny you love
though it’s due
is to kill you now
to tell the truth
so i walk away
hard as stone
to let you die
and live alone
yes i’ll walk away
as fools may do
to tell a lie
to tell the truth

A Drawbridge, A Deep Deep Moat, And No More.

Mooce — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 17:57:49 +0000

or maybe I can
climb a castle
a tall stony
haven with a
history of
prevention
and tall tall
lookouts where
I can see danger
from days away.
yes. a castle with
a deep deep moat
that no one person
can cross save
maybe a boat
and I will quiver
my sharp sharp arrows
and raise my flag high
very high.
a drawbridge, a deep deep moat, and no more.

Yesterday. Because Of Too Much.

Mooce — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 17:56:08 +0000

I’m tempted to pancakestack
my fears into nothing.
nothing. where we won’t
see them and nobody will
know. nobody.
where I don’t have to answer
you and I don’t have to deal
with him and all the
quicktriggered onlookers.
it is simple for them.
it is always so simple
and it always will be.
But I will give of myself
no more.
I will take my fears,
each one, a perfectly round
and delicious pancake
and I will eat them one and all.
until they exist no longer.
Yes. I will eat them.
And I will be toomuch full forever.

I Can’t Understand That It Ever Will

Mooce — Sat, 15 May 2010 05:28:37 +0000

up and around her neck
she pulled your arm
I drink more
my lonliness crawls up my spine
through my stomach and clutches
my heart
I have to sit down
lean back
how does it come so naturally
to so many?
does it really
work that way?

with 33 years of history
I can’t understand that it ever will
thirty three years
working against me
and I can’t imagine that it ever will

Dear God, I Am Tired Of This Journey. Amen.

Mooce — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 03:46:32 +0000

i give my heart to ghosts
mostly.
and butterflies.
the kind that flutter near
and lick the salt
from my skin
breathe in my ear
then
flutter away
to be carried by
whatever strong wind
may come

tonight i plan
to sit on my hot
Texas porch
with a stick of butter
hoping that
love will flutter

have you ever been
in the
m i d d l e
of a journey
and just keep
looking to the
e n d
when you will be done?
a man spoke today
then i leaned back
in my chair
at my lap
and began to stare
tears welled
my gut swelled
and i began to storm
like a Texas June
napkin to my face

had my elbows been on the table
i would have
spilled the pitcher

but tonight i plan
to sit on my
Texas porch
with a plan like butter.
hoping.

amen.

Then Before And Again, Journaling 2008

Mooce — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 19:07:13 +0000

I haven’t always been here, in this lonely state of sordid affairs. These walls were not always this close. This light, so intrusive. There was a time when my youth and zeal was enough. When it swelled above the dawn of my heart’s reservoir. Spilling, flooding, drowning. With love and hope. Who was I then? Did I know then that this day would come? This terrible day. This terrible suffering putrid day.

It’s hard to say.

My life must end, I constantly think. This is true and real… what it means to suffer. And I walk gladly into my end knowing only what is behind with certainty.

I beseech thee, oh Lord, that that is enough.

I met her at the age when life seems to supersede the present with teeming possibilities. The sun is brighter than heavenly possible, and the air snaps with crisp memories. That age when I longed for purpose, but know not of suffering. I met her and she became my suffering. I fell in love with her. I fell in love with her suffering. She became my purpose. It was enough. Then.

She came when life was confusing. I had left the Body with bitterness and confusion. Yet hope paved before me like a road.

Had I asked her then, if she understood, would she have stayed? Had I asked her then if I was okay, would she have left? My mind is tormented with such questions. How is one to prepare for suffering? How is one to prepare for that which appears more gracefully than the pedals of a flower?

To say she turned my life upside down is absurd. It was already that way when she showed up. She, if anything, helped turned me right side up. Does a ship not long to be right side up anyway? And so it was with her. So it was with me. She was simply something to hold onto. And once in hand, the turning was easy.

I simply held too tightly.

Pink Toes Atop

Mooce — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 23:13:50 +0000

what a lovely dream
you must be
to walk along
on such lovely feet
to call these yours
repeat repeat!
pink toes atop
these lonely streets

O what lovely gems!
my child, my heir
may I wash them now
with love with care
what lonely feet
repeat, despair
but what lovely gems
you have right here

surely you know
how wonderful you are
pink toes atop
a heart of scars
pink toes atop
these lovely feet
do you realize
what you mean?

a child, a daughter
in unison
we call to you
but paper thin
you denied to us
your lovely feet
a broken heart
despair, defeat

but what lovely gems!
O songs and hymns!
pink toes atop
belong to Him
and we will stay
for your return
to sing to you
how He yearns

for pink toes atop
your lovely feet
prostituted lies
can not defeat
what a lovely dream
that you are
God’s lovely child
with an alabaster jar

Like I’m Speaking A Different Language

Mooce — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 16:44:15 +0000

pain is as marrow
and suffering, a symphony in warm up
the artist does well
to listen
and respond with hope
Sing from your soul, child!
For that is where your
loss and desolation reside
and death makes for
hopeful soil

Even In The Unimaginable Places

Mooce — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 16:32:10 +0000

awake with agitation, my heart
feels
like the rain on my window.
if only my arms were longer.
if only my time was like the clouds.
i would be with you
to hold you
and to listen to your story
and to help in everyway imaginable.
but my hands are here
tied to another log
and saw i must.
but as soon as Love will allow
to you i will send everything i can.
everything i can.

You Belong With Me

Mooce — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 21:48:18 +0000

the more i see you
the more
i can’t understand
why it is
that i still
feel the way i do

love and lust
it’s hard to choose
in regards to you
and what’s the difference
and important to lose

so i’ll tell you a story of a boy and a girl
and how when she smiled it lit up his world
and for him it was easy to see, you belong with me

we’ll hide in my car, you read me that poem
about a tree and a heart that was sewn
and for me it is easy to see, you belong with me

but now
you’re through
and i’m left to wonder
how love
can be so
misconstrued
or how i
can be played
the fool

so tell me a story of a girl and a boy
and how when he smiled, she lit up with joy
and for her it was easy to see, she belonged with me

we’ll hide in my car, we’ll capture the sun
share about your past and what’s been undone
because for me it is easy to see, you belong with me

So Rare, The Words I Seldom Hear

Mooce — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 21:18:24 +0000

he did it again
as i brushed my
teeth
with a simple question.
he put his
hand on my chest
he raised his arms
in prayer he told me a secret
after he told me of salvation.
uncomfortable
with my hand on the bathroom door
with my feet on fire
he touched my chest
he embraced me
like a father.
tears.
he embraced me and
told me he’d come find me.

Because We’re Children With Questions As Passports

Mooce — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 16:48:02 +0000

hostility rises in me
when you speak
and i’m left…
i guess what i have
are all questions
and no answers
and what a place
to be
i wonder
where I’m going
or what is my tether
for inclimate and whether
and i’m left…
i guess.

where are the fathers
the foundations
the fearless court?

To Think Of What Is In Me

Mooce — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 22:56:32 +0000

i feel heavy today
heavy in the heart
heavy as a whole
and heavy in parts
it’s of loneliness
I think
but I know
that’s not right
it’s of longing
and abandonment
howling in the night
it calls me to crave
a destination place
a destination fate
still
foreign to the face
to a place that has
no memory of me known
where my nowhere thoughts
can feel right at home

Stay For Now, Stay

Mooce — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 21:10:04 +0000

the ship diminishes
into the sunshine
diminishes
into the horizon
that longstretching line
that makes its mark between
dreams and the day
while i stay
hugging a ticktocking bouy
with that in-the-middle-of-nowhere
feeling giving rise
i’m starting to pray
to god, i pray
watching my dreams sail away
and he says, always,
what i need him to say

Guilty As Charged

Mooce — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 23:49:19 +0000

Sensationalism, when used to illicit a response, even for noble causes, is irresponsible.