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Hero Or Villain Of My Villanelle?
You decide - Sheep or goat? Heaven or Hell?
Break down the fourth wall of art and culture!
Hero or villain of my villanelle?
Truth comes like ringing the Liberty Bell
Propaganda kills like a mad vulture
You decide - Sheep or goat? Heaven or Hell?
A turtle leaves the cover of his shell
A diamond forms under extreme pressure
Hero or villain of my villanelle?
Thirsty lips taste cool water from a well
Dignity offers hope, something more pure?
You decide - Sheep or goat? Heaven or Hell?
Poems bleed from my veins like ink from ink wells
Open wounds held to the light like torture
Hero or villain of my villanelle?
My words vibrate and create, can you tell?
Naked heart transparent without closure
You decide: Sheep or goat? Heaven or Hell?
Hero or villain of my villanelle?
self interview/self portrait
[a postmodern dada]
For R.S. Pearson
self interview-
the problem of suffering
<—pascal talk some sense into me
—>franz kafka is stalking me
—>baudelaire mind is thinking me
<—need to wash my mind with The Holy Bible
<—and then dry it with r.s. pearson’s philosophy
I woke up dreaming of Christian reformation
senses reeling with andre breton’s surrealism manifesto
went drinking with martin luther and bono
discussed theology in the corner pub
pints of ale and irish whiskey
clashing with The Holy Bible in my soul
like holy rock and roll-
we shared belly laughs
and prayers for the common man
I stepped outside into the cool fall air
alone
lit a miniature cigar from santo domingo
and took a slow drag
soul of sky was masked by a nuclear cloud
did someone cut me?
didn’t realize I was slowly bleeding
did you warn me?
sorry I wasn’t listening
~stoic survival~
like a wound with a new stitch
like a nervous twitch
I’ve been living on the border of an unfulfilled wish
the local town’s church bell rings out
faithfully, as it always does
every hour
The Spirit is the same
but the times sure have changed
mirror perspective
a photograph
I am an outsider amongst outsiders
a rebel amongst rebels
never could find the outside of society for me
in this subculture of conformity
<—The Holy Bible is the message guiding me
<—kierkegaard’s writing like a lamp illuminating me
<—escher’s lines keep redefining me
<—Lord have mercy
self portrait- ^
GOD is... I am...
GOD is... I am...
GOD is my dada JESUS is the wonderful I AM
I think you like picasso, all perspectives at once
[bet this is how GOD sees it]
feel you passionately like van gogh
[i know this is GOD’s holy passion]
love and kiss her like klimpt’s “the kiss”
[know GOD’s desire for us through this]
i see JESUS THE CHRIST’s cross like dali
[awakens me to GOD’s higher view; JESUS’s amazing power,
infinite love and humility]
have i expressed this like jackson pollack’s paint drippings?
[oh to be a unique splash of color in God’s expressionistic masterpiece!]
I AM
I AM
JESUS IS the magnificent I AM!
haiku-a-cuckoos
sister on the street
looking for love not a screw
haiku-a-cuckoo
work and slave all day
family times are too few
haiku-a-cuckoo
look at me cross-eyed
or unkindly and i'll sue
haiku-a-cuckoo
do not tell the truth
hide it whatever you do
haiku-a-cuckoo
i talk to myself
and never listen to you
haiku-a-cuckoo
oxyMORON
as anyone who knows me will attest
i am-
an everyday extraordinary
earthy spiritual
a normal eccentric
an average oddity
a standard quirky
that is irrelevantly relevant
and ordinarily complex
like an imperfectly perfect diamond
that has attained an imbalanced balance
to be dysfunctionally compatible with others,
i guess you could call me
a beautiful mess
simply A HUGE
oxyMORON
am i
sonnet for the sea
the wind whispers with wonder
in seashells i never find
as love screams like thunder
& swims to the shore of my mind
the passion within the ocean fills
kisses, streams of consciousness
as the seed of creation spills
& splashes in your loveliness
the mystery of the mountain
is the light in sunshine
as i bathe naked in your fountain
& drink from your lips of wine
~ your beauty is like the sea
waves that comfort me ~
pure white light
inspired by the music of my beloved friend Steven Delopoulos of Burlap To Cashmere
the persistence
the persistence of memory
like the painting by salvador dali
my darling, dance with me on the edge of night!
dance with me until new love sings with first light!
a pure heart is keenly vulnerable
when a heart fully charged with love is rejected
the soul's wound is horrible!
in this solitary moment Lord i pray
baptize my naked soul with grace in motion
real LOVE is greater than a feeling or emotion
the cross precedes the crown but for a season!
shhh...the language of this mystic dawn
is yet to be born in the words of the poet priest king
visionary dreamer
sense the intuitive abstract spiritual
time is infinite
& time is finite
& this suffering is only for a season!
pure white light
my darling, dance with me on the edge of night!
dance with me until new love sings with first light!
pure white light
tranquil center
enter LOVE
white the harmony from which all color was created
white, the harmony from which all color was created
blessed hope beyond babylon
All Poetry Copyright Billy Lamont 2017
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