XI. A Father's Love

For Violet and Tennessee

My daughter, I’d give her princes,
My son, I’d give him queens
And palaces and lands that span
From sea to shining sea.
My children, I’d give you wisdom
And a vision to conquer life-
A happy, healthy existence
Free from natural strife.
But my children, all I’d give you
Would one day burn away
And what use is a limb
If it knows no pain?
So then, I will give you
That which I am of:
A humbled heart, my wicked hands,
And a father’s love.

X. Darkness Overcomes Me

Darkness overcomes me Lord,
For I am but a man.
From the watchtower I see the sky’s waning light
With the advance of the grotesque.
Let me be still oh Lord,
Let me then be quiet.
Gird me for my family
And even for myself.
Not to falter in the coming battle,
I cannot stumble in the least.
I grip my rifle tight,
And pray for quick salvation.


Darkness overcomes me Lord,
For I am but a man.

IX. Who may know what moves me?

Who may know what moves me, who may know my heart?
Who may know the strings that play me, or pluck my soul apart?
Am I a such a righteous man, that I can withstand my wicked heart?
I assure you in the face of sin I stand to fall apart.
Am I such a craven, that I’d tear a man apart?
If you heard the strings that play me, you’d see ‘tis in my heart.

VIII. I am a son of the earth!( unfinished)

My Queen-
I am a son of the earth!
Crude ‘n crass m’ lass,
but a son just the same.
I came unto with dirt under m’ nails,
And shall return with dirt on m’ boots.
I regard myself manly, bent n’ broken,
But a son just the same
I’s formed of clay by mygoodmaker,
Aye, he made me well.
With spittled beard I rush into fray,
Into the fray for you go I.
I will not be cowed, I will not be broken,
Until the dust it leaves m’ lungs.
For you I will wrestle the wolves,
And ford the fjords,
They are nothing to me in you,
nay, nothing to me in you.
I've the strength of legion for you momma,
I've hellbone in m' strength,
and I charge any man to come on hard,
and I will meet him in the middle
with a thundercrackbonebrokenbrittleaxerattle,
and I will stand over 'is fallen form,
and holler out to heaven and hell:
"I am a son of the earth!"

VII. Music

Music doth soothe my soul,
Soothe my soul the music doth.
The angels foresaw my birth within their songs,
Within their tongue of tongues.
And now it cradles me gently,
Ushered by my invisible brothers,
Whisper wind of Hayyoth’s hymns.

VI. As I Stoop, He Rises

For Tennessee Jedidiah Mannan


As I grow old, he grows stronger.
As I become bent, he grows straight.
As I grow hard, and dull,
He comes alive with fire.

I see in his eyes the fires of great wars
And the ships of civilizations I will never see.
I see foolish bravery, and unkempt strength.
As I walk on, he follows behind me,
Just now at a bumbling run.
I kneel next to him, and caution him of the smoke upon the horizon.
He heeds my words, and throws his arms about my neck,
For he knows that I love him.
I tell him he shall be a great nation, as the stars,
And he laughs as he sharpens my spear.
One day, I tell him, I will be gone,
And so now I must tell him all I know.
Then we carry on, across the mountains,
Along the path we see laid out.
And in just so short a time, I turn to see him,
And he is grown, and a man,
And he smiles at me.
I smile, so that he will not know I am old, and tired.
But we both know that as I stoop, he rises,
And because of this, my heart is at peace.

V. These People

These People,
They live until they die, no more, no less.
They raise their children, and their children’s children,
And return to the earth whence they came.
They weather the winter, and laugh in the sun,
And weep for their sorrows.
They live in a familiar house, with overgrown yards,
And they toil as best they can.
They cannot see beyond the screen door,
But for the great green oaks that shade their yard.
They are as the children who rise everyday, and go to play.
And for this, I commend them:
For no God, nor Demon, nor war, nor poverty
Shall keep them from this life,
Just as the oaks that shade their door.

IV. The Old Soul of the Long Lost Child

The old soul
of the long lost child shall I ever be.
The great gasp smell
of the smoke of train shall I ever breathe.
The toys I have lost in the tunnel of man
Have clearly marked my way,
The dog eared lore of children’s fare
have held me from the fray.


My children's tears, my children's laughs
With them I weave a magic raft
And sail from this smoking land of death.



The old dreams of eternal youth
are an isle affixed for me.
And I visit with the ghosts of past
And live in magic means.
Anon anon I hear a cry
from my children across the shore
And I leave the isle with a smile
To search for it no more.



My Children’s tears, my children’s laughs
They are but a magic craft
To keep me in this land of death
And I shall weep no more.

The unforgettable fire

III. The End

I live in this constant state of sadness, this constant realm of madness,
Trying to write you out of the trouble you're in.

Of Beast, and man, and death’s right hand, I write.

I wake in a constant state of turmoil, the grinding axe of turmoil

Trying to chase you to the end.

Of God and man, and angel’s hands, I write.

When will this ever end?

II. Laurels

Resting on your laurels
Is never a wise to-do
For resting on your laurels
How shall they rest on you?

I. Wheat and Wildflowers

One day we will meet
on the other side of the twilight of the gods,
or the gods we thought we were.
We will sit under an ancient pine,
looking out on the wheat and wildflowers
where once was a bloody plane strewn with our brother's bodies.
We will speak in quiet tones in the smoke of our fire,
and never our hearts will tremble.

We will then be mild men in the manner of our father,
our arms unscarred, our minds untroubled.
We will have forgotten the battles and blood,
only a whisper in the wheat.
The sons of god will lay down their threshing tools
to hail us in a greeting:
'It is finished!’

And the beauty of it will bring tears to our eyes.