You'd like a shot at serious redemption,
Only, like us all, you have no clue.
Mostly satisfied, you leave your pew
Knowing that you've satisfied convention
Instead of being some more painful you.
Perhaps there is no other truth than this;
Perhaps the yearning must be unfulfilled.
Unredeemed, you pay your debts as billed,
Returning to a bliss that dreams of bliss.
Nicholas Gordon
Thanks Jacquie!
Another kind of redemption:
loving the World, fully and completely:
Equinox
The Garden releases its last
radiance, not as something failed,
but as its full reason for being: to give
continually, to its last bit of energetic being.
Its giving is its beauty. It is a smile,
it is the heart of love.
So the birdsong that surrounds me
is given, not away, but into the world.
It is given as rain, as sunlight, as snowfall
and autumn leaves. It falls on our ears
as what it is, with no deception,
the complete truth of being.
Even the smell of decay, drifting from
the deer, dead by the side of the road, says:
“This is what I am and no other. I do not
pretend to be. Even in death I speak
without deceit, even unto my flesh,
my very bones.”
Be tolerant of these songs,
my musings on the way these things are.
For I cannot give up this Summer except by
giving myself as well, fully and completely,
into the praise of our mutual beauty,
our total loving of the World. [emphasis added]
Richard Wehrman
"Home for the first time in 2014!"
"The birthday of the world"
ReplyDeleteOn the birthday of the world
I begin to contemplate
what I have done and left
undone, but this year
not so much rebuilding
of my perennially damaged
psyche, shoring up eroding
friendships, digging out
stumps of old resentments
that refuse to rot on their own.
No, this year I want to call
myself to task for what
I have done and not done
for peace. How much have
I dared in opposition?
How much have I put
on the line for freedom?
For mine and others?
As these freedoms are pared,
sliced and diced, where
have I spoken out? Who
have I tried to move? In
this holy season, I stand
self-convicted of sloth
in a time when lies choke
the mind and rhetoric
bends reason to slithering
choking pythons. Here
I stand before the gates
opening, the fire dazzling
my eyes, and as I approach
what judges me, I judge
myself. Give me weapons
of minute destruction. Let
my words turn into sparks.
Marge Piercy
from "The Crooked Inheritance" ~ 2006
https://www.facebook.com/sheri.reda/posts/10221530551465855
"The Barricades of Heaven"
ReplyDeleteRunning down around the towns along the shore
When I was sixteen and on my own
No, I couldn't tell you what the hell those brakes were for
I was just trying to hear my song
Jimmy found his own sweet sound and won that free guitar
We'd all get in the van and play
Life became the paradox, the bear, the rouge et noir
And the stretch of road running to L.A.
Pages turning
Pages we were years from learning
Straight into the night our hearts were flung
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where I'm from
All the world was shining from those hills
The stars above and the lights below
Among those there to test their fortunes and their wills
I lost track of the score long ago
Pages turning
Pages we were years from learning
Straight into the night our hearts were flung
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where I'm from
Childhood comes for me at night
Voices of my friends
Your face bathing me in light
Hope that never ends
Pages turning
Pages torn and pages burning
Faded pages, open in the sun
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where I'm from
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where I'm from
Jackson Browne, et. al.
On the album "Looking East"
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Looking_East
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiE5-II0v7w
https://www.facebook.com/kitti.carriker/posts/10213536058623298
ReplyDeleteFor Palm Sunday 2021
ReplyDeletehttps://savedbydesign.wordpress.com/2021/03/27/just-a-little-sobbing
with poem by Emily Dickinson
Better — than Music! For I — who heard it —
I was used — to the Birds — before —
This — was different — ‘Twas Translation —
Of all tunes I knew — and more —
‘Twasn’t contained — like other stanza —
No one could play it — the second time —
But the Composer — perfect Mozart —
Perish with him — that Keyless Rhyme!
So — Children — told how Brooks in Eden —
Bubbled a better — Melody —
Quaintly infer — Eve’s great surrender —
Urging the feet — that would — not — fly —
Children — matured — are wiser — mostly —
Eden — a legend — dimly told —
Eve — and the Anguish — Grandame’s story —
But — I was telling a tune — I heard —
Not such a strain — the Church — baptizes —
When the last Saint — goes up the Aisles —
Not such a stanza splits the silence —
When the Redemption strikes her Bells —
Let me not spill — its smallest cadence —
Humming — for promise — when alone —
Humming — until my faint Rehearsal —
Drop into tune — around the Throne —
~ Emily Dickinson
https://www.facebook.com/kitti.carriker/posts/10158358107853867:65
ReplyDeleteThanks to Antoinette for this one:
ReplyDelete“Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection
Send my credentials to the House of Detention
I got some friends inside
The face in the mirror won't stop
The girl in the window won't drop
A feast of friends
"Alive!" she cried
Waitin' for me
Outside!”
― Jim Morrison
from "When The Music's Over"
by The Doors