Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Poetry by Christopher Wilkins

By Christopher Wilkins

We who cleared the abyss with a single great leap
And then stood among cheers at the edge of the world
Had beforehand considered how dark and how deep
But not WIDE was the looking back chasm we´d hurl.

And indeed, even tossed a scarred pebble or two
Heard it squeak: “Never more!” as it sank to the depths
Where the great SPIRIT-SLAYER lay sleeping, and woke
To a fleet-footed mocker of death…

“Suicidal!” it roared. “Merely madness and fear!”
“Thou art weary of life and thus brave by default.”
But to gamble for anything less is a crime
And of course, given time, an incurable loss.

Not like madmen or fools are we crushed underfoot
Nor like over-ripe grapes do we cling to the vine
But we fall, brown and plump when the Husbandmen calls
For his fairest and rarest of wine.

By Christopher Wilkins

It takes more than courage to make a new start
Something rarer and fairer – something loftier – takes
Something far beyond terra-bound spirits that break
Pulls your heart from the miry clay.

It takes more than courage to make a new start
Many times has your will, so invincible, broke
And you toppled head-first to the rubble below
Lost a decade or more in a stroke.

It takes more than courage to make a new start
To behold, without flinching, the face in the glass
Though it´s stained with the horrors of follies long passed
And it glows like a rancorous mask.

It take more than courage to make a new start
Something rarer and fairer- something loftier – takes
Something far beyond terra-bound spirits that break
Pulls your heart from the miry clay

By Christopher Wilkins

I turn my hand against the clock, whose pale
Astonished face reflects a silver spoon
And empty skull.  I drain the well of past
Regrets.  My love! My loss!  Whose kiss these seams
Of iron block, and walls prevent…´twas you
I held when life was young, and bodies ached, 
And hands caressed.  But then the serpent found
It´s tail, and lo! An iron ring enclosed
The dust the breath – commingled once – the Cross,
The fire, and the rose.  But all those things

Are ashes now…and tissue paper ghosts.

I Am
By Christopher Wilkins

I am new
I am free
I am loved
I am forgiven
Thank you

By Christopher Wilkins

Locked away inside my dream
My shadow tight beside me
What treasure did I find

By Christopher Wilkins

Sundry hills hid treasures there
Alone to find our pleasures where
The mind cannot create them
Living now beyond our means
Insipid thoughts in haggard dreams
In friend – we find we hate them

Infernal truth my brain´s disease
Illusions bind and strain to please
God damn this game we play

Tomorrow never comes
Which is to say – tomorrow
Will be no different than today
Your piper – will never pay.

By Christopher Wilkins

You asume to know me
You don´t even know yourself
I don´t know you
I don´t even know myself
You profess love;

By Christopher Wilkins

There is no sin, only
Against nature.  Against self. Against mankind.
There is no beginning, and
No end.
No first and no last.
All is one.
There can be only one.
Only now
Always – right now.

There is no sin – original
Or otherwise
There is forgiveness – for
Forgiveness sake – and
And none other love
But love God
My balls hurt.

Against Your Will
By Christopher Wilkins 
[I do not know if this is original. I woke up and wrote it. 
But it seems like I heard it somewhere but I don’t know where.]

Against your will you were born
Against your will do you live
Against your will you will die
And no good deed goes unpunished.

My Time
By Christopher Wilkins

It is time
My treasure is time – yes
For the loneliness
Torments itself within my soul
The silence breaks relative existence

Hidden somewhere in the stars
The sky already waits, because
To be silent is cowardly
Nevertheless to think forbidden
Only still deep emptiness within me

Manipulative mothers
Backstabbing brothers, disappear
The furious tears
In the case of storm and sun
Make death my only true angel

By Christopher Wilkins

The die is cast
World without end
Endless light
Simple. Smooth. Light
Boundless light
Desire and delight
And there is no vacancy

By Christopher Wilkins

They will use you against yourself
Life should not be a struggle
It is all in order
Of an order, even
A carefully constructed chaos
From chaos comes all things
Dogma. Dichotomy. Distrust. Disgust.
Death and dying
Lies and lying
Drugs and highs and flying

Scrambles senses and ridden fences
Never an even keel
Money is nothing
It´s all you need
Hidden agenda _____. Greed

Restrict yourself in the middle
Precisely in the center
Form a place with no boundaries
No sides, strictly endless
Perfect. Uniform. Sinless
Tantamount to the dead

By Christopher Wilkins

Rightly done and nicely said
The hell of it is – I´m
Better off dead
Yesterday is past
“The repose does never last”
Just don´t stop __ continue
On to finer days than these.

I´m where I´m supposed to be
Making my way through eternity
Every step forsaken
Still every step – must
Be taken
And there is nowhere to hide
And – no safety to bide
Or cloistered seclusion beyond this illusion
And. There. Is. No. Vacancy

By Christopher Wilkins

With clarity and intent
I´ve laughed at clear blue skies
Wasted days in youth
Ignored that simple truth, and
Looking back now through the glass
The beauty – certainly – does pass

And so you want me broken
Head hung down eyes cast low
Shoulders always slumping
Throughout this life on the row

Which makes my smile offensive
Then too. That gleam in eye
Taking it so hard. Because
I´m not afraid to die

Slander with your words
Cut me with your lies
Murder me with hate
It comes as no surprise

Despite it all I´m new
To spite you also free
And loved a little,


By Christopher Wilkins

Dispossess these thoughts
Dispossess these symbols
Dispossess this body
Dispossess this life
Dispossess this world
This. Is. Dispossession.

Island of Closed Shutters
By Christopher Wilkins

On the island of closed shutters
One leads the way carefully
Turns around before continued thinking
Paths on which the progress
Demands a higher price
Silent and yet reckless
On the island of closed shutters
Everything seems to be pure
At first blush
At second sight – too
Only in mind – sight
Could something shake out
Of the shadow
Something mucous – Soaking. Cleaving.
On a different place entirely despised
Wouldn’t this be
On the island of closed shutters
A little crack will suffice
Unattended – oh so little steps
Glances of guile bite your neck
Once you think you’re safe
A too frivolous overacted instant
Will drive you from your mind
On the island of closed shutters
You stumble before
The rope has even been stretched
Damages rise up to big pleasures
Here you first must purchase the words
Before you’re allowed to speak them out
At the State Fair of Life
Little children on concealed horses
Step out of line of exhilaration and funfair
Joyful faces with painted lips
Still they would kill for a gingerbread heart
Distant traders – gamblers and jugglers
Artisans of fire – charlatans and clowns
For a bliss in the ear a coin to the organ monkey
After all they all play evil games with harmless smiles
On belly-stores arranged with love
Colourful lollipops poisoned with false words
Sweet candies filled with wanton thoughts
Even the almonds are burnt in the heat of deceit
In the show – booths aimed and hearts riddles with bullets
High striker forces are measured and decapitated
Rarely paid but strange bodies have been toyed
They also lust for the final execution
Masks are worn on heads
Even masks behind masks behind mask.
In deserted silence uncovered
One perceives no faces behind

By Christopher Wilkins

On my detour I came upon the thief of time
Dissatisfaction is the consequence of discipline – she told me
On my detour I found green fodder full of lust
I possess the candour – I thought
On my detail a mother mongrelized her child
Even my innocence was robbed the first day – I realized
On my detour I saw qualms of conscience
Outlaws with an idea of virtue – I laughed.
On my detour I observed the perfection
Things were just pushed aside – I noticed
On my detour I watched the folk with education
No personalities – I deplored
On my detour I ran across morality
Refuge to love suppressed arguments –I established
On my detour my eyes followed a play
Hands were clapped like two naked, greedy bodies – I heard
On my detour I looked into desire
My roots of years – I counted
On my detour I looked into desire
I saw my home
And I returned.

Christopher Wilkins 999533
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 South
Livingston, TX 77351

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