they no longer tell you
that at any given moment
the Beautiful leans out from Heaven still
washing the world in silver and gold
because to them this style of poetry is no longer valid
embarassing, even
though who decided this first
no one knows and spoiled the first birthday
but you must bow down to despair and to the trending status quo
or flit the time no longer as in a golden age
or they will call you mad
(imagine that)
or what's worse, stupid, ignorant
with a grin on your face in the mud unless,
somehow you know more now
than when you were five and could see
the world alive and yourself in it
so you abide and make odd jokes
too blase to say otherwise and too afraid
in their disguise
not to fit into more or less the shroud they have made for you
but I say otherwise until I die
and after that too
because Heaven is still with us
Beauty has never left the room
though persecuted to the nines
and the room is the world
everytime it rains.even to the verge of
Flood and rainbow because they are His
and the silver regions and the mysteries
the plains at sunset washed in flame
and the gold of what we were told remains
even when we don't want it to because
what if someone found us out
when we were living the fairy tale
and roses opened and the skies echoed them in music
every time the birds sang
and God Himself was a rose and yet
Eternally and if not why does hope
spring is us despite everything smashed to bits if
Christ be not the green and given shepherd
of your aching soul
that could not die, that did not die
when you thought it would
because He is still alive in you
and has never left you alone
though there is cruelty
though there are those
who tear time apart
convincing you to
acquiesce and play the part
in a clueless fiat
and never venture to say
no, you know otherwise
that gold has sifted down from the sun
on the faces of children grown
who wed themselves to stone unknowngly
yet who are more than what is on the face of it
more than the illusion of clouds, shadows
over the continents
of what transpires on the evening news
that pass and must disintegrate
because they are not named
from any silly stage;
this is foreign made more foreign
and tangled, no longer the colours
of honey ambered and
and not my nation
the will to turn away
and to deny the truth
that down inside
where lies do not grow
and cannot take root
the beautiful is green, pale geeen
and still alive in you
with forever and ever
and at the Beginning,
still.
and only when
you allow the cynical to prevail
to rage and Rule and have fits
has Death come to you
and by your own will
because you would rather appear brilliant
among the crowds on Crowds
than to be truly happy.
and filled with Light.
mary angela douglas 6 may 2018
that at any given moment
the Beautiful leans out from Heaven still
washing the world in silver and gold
because to them this style of poetry is no longer valid
embarassing, even
though who decided this first
no one knows and spoiled the first birthday
but you must bow down to despair and to the trending status quo
or flit the time no longer as in a golden age
or they will call you mad
(imagine that)
or what's worse, stupid, ignorant
with a grin on your face in the mud unless,
somehow you know more now
than when you were five and could see
the world alive and yourself in it
so you abide and make odd jokes
too blase to say otherwise and too afraid
in their disguise
not to fit into more or less the shroud they have made for you
but I say otherwise until I die
and after that too
because Heaven is still with us
Beauty has never left the room
though persecuted to the nines
and the room is the world
everytime it rains.even to the verge of
Flood and rainbow because they are His
and the silver regions and the mysteries
the plains at sunset washed in flame
and the gold of what we were told remains
even when we don't want it to because
what if someone found us out
when we were living the fairy tale
and roses opened and the skies echoed them in music
every time the birds sang
and God Himself was a rose and yet
Eternally and if not why does hope
spring is us despite everything smashed to bits if
Christ be not the green and given shepherd
of your aching soul
that could not die, that did not die
when you thought it would
because He is still alive in you
and has never left you alone
though there is cruelty
though there are those
who tear time apart
convincing you to
acquiesce and play the part
in a clueless fiat
and never venture to say
no, you know otherwise
that gold has sifted down from the sun
on the faces of children grown
who wed themselves to stone unknowngly
yet who are more than what is on the face of it
more than the illusion of clouds, shadows
over the continents
of what transpires on the evening news
that pass and must disintegrate
because they are not named
from any silly stage;
this is foreign made more foreign
and tangled, no longer the colours
of honey ambered and
and not my nation
the will to turn away
and to deny the truth
that down inside
where lies do not grow
and cannot take root
the beautiful is green, pale geeen
and still alive in you
with forever and ever
and at the Beginning,
still.
and only when
you allow the cynical to prevail
to rage and Rule and have fits
has Death come to you
and by your own will
because you would rather appear brilliant
among the crowds on Crowds
than to be truly happy.
and filled with Light.
mary angela douglas 6 may 2018
