The AW Masnavi

I sat forward the orchestra behind
God's praises to sing although I was blind
His grace filled the hearts in praise
My soul was empty my faith in sad haze
To have such a gift given to me
Never giving as God did decree
I spat in His Face to deny sweet truth
That blessing He gave, aloft and aloof

That is the best I can do K-I sat in many cathedrals in this world full of booze and self pity-but mostly fear. To be one of the male soloists in the Verdi Requim or Beethoven's seventh and to be paid well and to be thinking only of the next drink or is not this such sweet bullshit is truly spitting in the face of the gift I was so blessed with-this is perhaps not the correct form-you know I am a poetic illiterate but at least it is the truth and the best I can offer-hope some others come up with some good stuff that is more of what you wish-but at least I tried and what a great idea-probably should not share this with anyone I s'pose-I am not bitching about my life it is pretty damn good but at least now I can be greatful and relatively sober-Dave

This was a first for me, I think.

Up in the lofty air I breathe the smoke
That devils from below me never choke
While crusted eyes squint at brightest heaven
My skin peels and chars as darkest raven
My dim eyes cannot look into the light
Painful, seeping, longing for blackest night
To take away the burdens that I've born
Return me to a place where I can mourn

Far below stretch miles of harried minions
Sound defining shouts of their opinions
Angered, turned to gaze on the scene, repulsed
Rage without reason, mind purely convulsed
I, keeper to the evils reputed
Absent intergrity convoluted
From Inferno's bowels reached up and bitten
Cast aside all hope as it was written

I lurch and straggle on this path alone,
a crippled beetle on a bloody stone:
the first and second simple steps I take
draw taut the chain from abdomen to stake.
The life I knew was happy ere I woke,
in sleep, a swan: awake, a Kafka joke.
Exhausted now, I pray for grace of death,
or music: strains of Locomotive Breath.

When eyes do awaken to see the screen
I may come up with something not so mean
But right now my poor eyes are sagging bad
And canyonesque yawns seem all that I had
Talented feat to think of even this
Syllabuls I've forgotten -what'd I miss
So sleep, with angles singing sweet strain
With angels kicking in a calm refrain

Okay--I hope I've gotten us moving somewhat--we're a little fixed in place and spinning our wheels:

I feel ev'ry step a weight of dull lead
I feel ev'ry sound harsh drums in my head
onward I strive beyond pain and measure
seeking holy water: life and treasure
blessings burned on my tongue as I murmur
slogging through fire I seek a perch firmer
desperate flight I seek a distant shore
far from this ill-blown, dark season of war

What will I find beneath the banner’s cross?
Rewards sufficient, salves to ease my loss?
What plunder will adorn the armored soul
At siege’s end above the sulfered hole.
Salvation’s promise is a pyrite lie
Plunder for the saved, booty paid on high.
For those who go unwilling to the fray
Will stoke the hellfire forges for their pay.

Will I, upon angelic trumpets blast
Be set at that reward, or cruelly cast
Out from those fair meadows, to be broken
For lust or envy, burned for a spoken
Curse cast at this gate in passion’s hot grip,
To beg eternal mercies from these lips
That filled the years between moments of sin
With praise for Your glory everlasting?

Though the darkening storms of life's hell churn
In a seething mass that hates, envies, burns
Smothering all else, breeding as it kills
Creating death, pointless lustreless lulls
That sweep the gloss from earth's shimmering charms
Pandora's box opens, the troubles swarm
And yet... And yet... hope, faith, peace, are alight
A triple-edged sword slaying eternal night