My Mamma's hands~

My mother's hands- so oddly swift and sure, deliberate but soft-
such precise movements from hands so battered and bruised from the years.
Treated with abuse, but so resiliently loving.
So quick and busy, holding up the roof, repairing patches and cleaning the stains-
yet they always find time to hold my hands, too.
They point where to go and to what to do, demonstrating, guiding and moving.
Always moving, always sure.
Always holding mine, rest assured.
My mother's hands, so oddly swift and sure, deliberate but soft-
how do they always find time to keep mine aloft?

The Bomber on the Ceiling~

A relic years past, a plane on the ceiling-
How you hang and project your stories for the generations.
One can only hope to hold back the tears,
the songs you sing,
the stories you tell and the emotions you bring.
One shown love like years before to show yourself off on that old floor,
to fly beyond where a meek heart will go,
to follow the strong through fire and Hell and snow.
Your wings are chipped and your wheels been shot,
some we remember and most we forgot,
but you speak of their name,
how thankful we are
that you flew and died and survived thus far.
A relic years past, a plane on the ceiling-
To tell stories and tales,
What a heavy feeling.

An Aluminum Friend~

So this is how we part.
By the heat of an angry sun.
By the dagger of those who rip away the sky.
I've been struck down, and I'm sorry.
I just wasn't quite enough.
I suppose I'll try one more time to take you home.
I'll let you down as easy as I can and let you go.
Let the others go first, they'll see you around.
But please, stay with me just a few more seconds.
Let me down easy as a rock.
I can't sustain anything slower.
Leave me, just tell my story and hold a fond memory.
Maybe we'll meet again, maybe we won't.
Just don't look behind you.
Just hurry up and be home in time for tea.

The Fading Soldier

I look up.
What is it that I see?
A cloud.
A sun.
A bird.
Life is simply free.
But I look behind all of it,
then what is it I see?
I see the figure of a soldier,
Looking back at me.
He's wounded, hurt and beat,
like no man aught to be.
He's seen things, done things,
that he could never mention to me.
I ask him why he's hiding.
I ask him why he's there.
'I'm just a simple soldier,'
He says
'just drifting through the air.'
But didn't you save the world?
'No. I did my part.'
But all the parts in a clock-
'I just fought with most my heart.'
Then why are you hiding?
'I don't want to be seen.'
Why not?
'For all that I've seen.'
But you seem to be fading away!
'Aye, so I am, but what of it?'
Your story! Out with it!
'I suppose if you insist.'
'If you really want to know.'
I do! Do tell!
'Let me set the show.'
'I'm a man, like you and your father.'
'A man with a gun. A mission. An order.'
You're a lot more than that, I cry!
'Please, let me finish.'
'I did what I had to do.'
'It's my duty. My prerogative.'
'My job was to take a hill. Clear a room, blow a mill-'
'All so you could stand here and ask me these questions.'
'But I'm not any different. You would do the same.'
'Maybe you will, and someone too will ask you questions.'
'Answer them, boy. Answer them all. Don't be silent like I did.'
'Throw it all onto the wall for the next to see.'
'Now I must leave you. Just-- do better than me.'

Father Figure

I leave you in good tidings.
I leave you with all I have.
I leave you from this era,
I leave you with a path.
You've found your own muse.
You've found your own style.
And while you haven't found you--
That always takes a while.
That comes later, the near future at best.
I've shown you what I can.
It's you to find the rest.
Follow your muse.
Follow your God.
Move towards the unknown.
Move towards your goal.
Take it from me,
an old sole who's lagged.
Keep moving forward.
Don't stagnate, don't shag.
Hold up your banner, boy.
Keep up that chin.
Hold up your spirits boy,
Be time heavy and thick or thin.
Be resourceful like I was.
But use what you have.
Be foot-loose and fancy-free.
Just don't forget what you have.
What you have that I didn't,
that I worked for you to get.
I know you won't.
I raised you better.
I love you, let that be it.
Move along, my boy.
Move forward unto dawn.
If you ever get lost or stranded,
you'll know where to go.
If you get jumped and abandoned,
there's always someone you know.
Don't fret for the future like I used to do.
Simply look forward with a bright light.
Some thing new.
Something new to look forward to in the light of God's purpose.
I'm glad for you.
Proud of you.
Make it all count.
I love you, my boy.
You'll make it-- no doubt.

The Sacred Song of the Morning Dew

One wakes up to a dreary sky,
starring up into the abyss of twilight,
awaiting the steel birds of invention to take the skies again.
To see men of order awake to duty,
to fly those steel birds so early.
The glint like shrapnel suspended in the air,
warmed by only the sun in the frigid sky,
the summer grass clothed in dew,
the birds looking upon the steel hawks of invention in envy,
They all sing a glorious, sacred song.
The rumble of the engines the base,
The chorus of swaying pines-
The crack of the summer grass in dew,
and the sweet melodic solo of the feather.
How I love these things when they conjoin,
hearing the sacred song of morning many miss.
How rare the occasion, but sweet it is,
the morning song of the steeps.
Awake, my friend, join me and listen-
Listen to the sacred song of the morning,
the reassuring, welcome back, good morning message of the trees.
Perhaps we don't give it enough credit,
how soothing it may be,
to wake up to the sacred song,
to wake up to thee.
Good morning, my friends.
Good morning, my life.
I see you have a song for me.
May I join in?
I hum a tune with the birds,
I sway to the beat of the trees.
I accompany the engine's roars,
above the sky, so free.
I sing along to the sacred song,
singing to the sky.
God's great gift of morning time.
This is why I arise.
The warming contrast of a mug.
The cooling breeze of the grass.
I would stay out here forever,
but darn, I have class.
I'll see you again tomorrow,
and we can sing our tune.
Thank you for letting me join you.
I'll see you again real soon.
Perhaps I don't give you credit.
So here it is.

Mamma's Day~

I admire your tenacity.
I admire your drive.
I admire your loving nature,
coupled with your determined life.

You always tell me,
“If I can, you can too.”
And seeing the sincerity in your eyes,
I know for a fact it's true.

You sit there and hold me, you guide me through life.
I have questions, you've got answers,
from you I know they're right.

I come in confusion, in teenage angst,
and somehow you comfort me.
You help me think straight.

I know I'm not perfect,
I mess up a bit (a lot).
But you're here, not to condemn,
but to pick me up again.

My dreams are of space, of galaxies beyond,
but I don't think they reach as far
as your motherly love, oddly fond.

No matter how much emotion these stanzas can bring,
they'll never add up to how I really feel,
you can imagine, I think.

I love you mamma, plain and simple.
I'll do you proud,
be it in space or beyond,
but I'll never reach the stars as far as your love.
And trust me. That's reeeaaaallllyyy far. Like-- Wow...

A Tongue of the Spirit

I want to be seen,
not for the drama.
I want to be seen,
not for the poor.

I want to be seen,
as myself instead.

Misconceived words and poisoned phrases,
ill-intended speech and a sharp tongue of blood,
is not what I stand for.
It is not what I love.

I say what I mean. I mean what I say.
It's not intended in any other way.
No more hatred, no more drama.

I'm only so young,
I've already grown tired.
I bore of the stabbing,
of the spear thrown in vain.
All for a backlash,
but what of the same?

Does it better me?
Does it empower you?
Nay, I say. It only serves to kill us both.
A poison in each his own cup.

I am not perfect, I do not claim to be-
But those who do are the ones who hate with their tongues.
Who is at the helm, my brother?
Be it angel or demon?
Who do you side with, brother?
To whom do you succumb?

Pick a side, speak your tongue in your party's language.
Be it a pretentious jab or a humbled rant, who is the better?
What does it matter if both are poisoned, perverted speeches.
A sheath of hate ahead a spirit of submission.

Why, my brother? Use your head- for it is not dead.
Let us speak not in hate-- cast the devil from your tongue.
Let us open ourselves and speak with angels.
An argument serves no purpose-- not for a million years,
when the only thing that happens is demons fill our ears.

Thy God of Acceptance

My knee's grow weak, my hands shake.
My mind, a squall.
I come to my knees in prayer,
asking him to take care of it all.

In times of joy, in times of fear-
I call upon his name.
Somehow, when he answers me, the feeling's all the same.

My eyes water, my lip quivers,
I can't decide to frown or smile-
One hand the fact he answers me,
The other for I am not worthy.

Weather to tremble or dance to the Heavenly tune,
To hear the voice that strips the trees bare,
It frightens but excites me as it permeates the air.

How can one so powerful love my aching sole?
How can one so pure accept me as his own?

I tremble for I'm not worthy,
But dance for I am here-
Listening to his voice,
Joy filling my ears.

I come to you God,
with questions for truth.
I come to you in good and poor,
You are my Heavenly host.

I want to stick with you,
tho the devil drag me away.
You shine your light on me again,
and bring me from dismay.

I am in debt to you,
So I shall proclaim your name!
You forgive me for my past, O' Lord,
You erase all thy shame.

Some day, I will serve you Lord,
be my hands or tongue.
Either way, I ask you Lord,
Remember me these years.

_

The Summer Swing, a glorious tune!
To the future for the free behold!
To dance in the moonlight and bask in the sun,
be thy time to bide the~

A Summer in swing, move your feet, my friends!
Join me in this glorious tune!
Blessed by thy God to live and love by the summer,
and to take our ambitions by root!

The Summer Swing, a glorious tune!
What to wait does a man angst,
no more, for join me in this dance!
We shall rejoice come the fall again!

The days be long with a welcome heat,
thy to cast away the Winter's old beat
and to the night comes the full, dusky moons,
sparks ambition in the nights of hearts~

How things spring unlike the other eras,
how they jive and rejoice!
Never before have I seen such vigor,
as I have in the Summer Swing's heat~

This is only the beginning, so there from here on out,
You and I and all thy world shall be dancing all about!
Make a fool, thy friends! Spread the word for the!
The Summer Swing is upon us, so let us sing with glee!

A simple thing, but that's what's special,
the rush of Winter is no more!
We, my friends, will dance to the end,
come fall then ever more!

One last time, join me, brethren!
The Summer Swing is here!
Grab your girls and let us dance!
There's nothing here to fear!

Thy Summer Swing, a glorious tune!
Surely orchestrated by God himself,
Oh Lord, I thank the for this swing!
Join us, too, won't you?

Keesler

I belong with order, by concrete walls,
I belong by the fortress’ waters.
On the airfields of the steel birds,
In the lush, weeping jungles.

The southern nights lit by the runway,
a sort of content is palpable.
The officer writing his daily,
something about that is respectable.

This is my home.
Where my heart lies has no contest.
By the steel birds of invention,
where thy be greeted by a solute.

I grew up here for short,
but there be a bond like none I've felt.
This is my domain- my sanctum.
Of which cannot be tainted.

Heaven on Earth lie here by God,
blessed with a love for the ordered.
Powerful but light,
Commanding but soft--

I, at heart, belong here.
By the brick, mortar and concrete-
somehow contrasted by the scenes of content,
swaying jungles and sands beneath~

A feeling I take on,
as feeling truly myself.
An eagle, perhaps, inside the.
Only detected by this content.

I long to go back--
I groan for the familiar,
and so I patiently wait to return.

Return to my nest of Keesler.