Tales of Old

Tales of old so many times told,

You are not alone,

You’re worth more than gold.

To the King.

 Of Sparrows.

Tales of old, so many times told,

He rested on the seventh.

And daughter, someday, you will rise,

and break the bread in Heaven.

So, watch your mouth.

Tales of old, so many times told,

Your skin is made –

The Devil’s mascarade.

Kill it today.

Escape the imps of Hades.

Feasting on your soul.

Tales of old, so many times told,

Soon, you’ll make it home.

Your voice made beautiful.

Tales of old, so many times told,

They start to sound like truth.

We carve them on our graves,

And decompose in soup.

Once, I was a worm.

Tales of old, so many times told,

My Redeemer liveth.

He will come,

Raging Love,

I’ll stand among the millions.

Tale today, I fail today.

Old stories,

Growing cold.

What lies?

Wet eyes.

Fake.

Tale today, I love the way,

Death is the New Heaven.

Escape.

Some Dark November

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Why did you have to break the vow that I made?

Born again they say.

“You must be born again”.

I was.

Twice.

The first for childlike faith.

The second for naïve visions of hands holding hands.

There was a day when I was baptized in the usual way…

With water on a Sunday.

The day I remember most though,

Is some dark November.

In a strange light, and covered in bedbug bites.

Some dark November,

I was born again. Twice.

I sold my soul to the quivers of my body.

To the way I heard someone screaming,

Far away, but embodied in choking chest.

I sold my soul to feverish ache.

To insomniatic rage.

To how carpet tastes like nothing but coarsens the cheeks.

I was baptized in that unusual way.

Wonderment crucified beneath the scathing hot rivers I cried that night.

Raised to walk in newness of life…

And it’s still the newest life, I don’t know how to live.

The newest life I never wanted.

Spitting image of this unfamiliar family…

Singing for the outside our dearest song-

“Never be born again twice”…

“No, never be born again twice”.