Wyrm Rune

In the quiet of the night,

when day birds are asleep

Before the nightingale arise,

His eyes begun to gleam.

The knight whom, not a day before,

Had slain the dragon fierce,

took his tail, and head and mail

and sold them in the fairs,

Now in the still oppressive night

He stares into the mirror,

And catches a familiar light

glimmer, fade then glimmer!

What he sees behind his eyes

Is fire he had outed,

What he feels within his bones

Are scales and armor sprouted

Red and hot, and cold as hate

His breathing labored, heavy

He looks behind his weary eyes

And sees his grinning enemy.

Had victory fallen into Hell?

His noble deed bewitched?

What now should the valiant knight

Do to vanquish this?

The curse of dragons blood within

this knight of evil fate.

The boiling of the cauldron sin

Fortifies the scales.

What hope can enter in

When heroes are amiss?

What banner flies above the man who charges the Abyss?

From the castle Parapet his mind is quickly made.

He will not live to see the beast make his land a grave!

Could Christ forgive a knight who so many vows had broken?

Would a suicide like Samson yet enter into Heaven?

Hotter still his skin aflame, his sword aglow enchanted.

 The mirror shows the Wyrm Rune Curse is quickly passed all halting.

He takes Communion bread and wine and rushes to the window.

He pours wine on his flaming scales

And eats the rough loaf whole

His tears aflame, he casts himself

Out the broken window

Beyond all hope resigns himself

To ever wander limbo

The land below is scorched

And charred.

his fathers sword falls from its scabbard.

The clear crisp sky extends its arms

The Knight Descends at break of Dawn.

Suddenly the trump is sound!

The earth beneath is giving ground!

And all around the Voice is found

"Halt there Knight and turn around!"

A light begins to shine.

 A woman now appears.

Her hair is free as wine

His scales contract in fear.

"Quiet Knight and turn around!"

The Voice had once commanded

his fall to death ceased at the sound.

The Knight, to Christ ascended!

Now dear reader listen well!

The curse at last was stymied

Tho the Knight for sin had fell

The Grace of Christ enlightened

Heaven knows the frame of man

None is ever sinless

Yet we have a faithful Friend

And righteousness in Jesus.

By: Stephan Joseph

For Jim. 

Dali

He played among the ancient ruins 

Settled near the melting sea

Loved a woman that he'd chosen 

Drenched his brush in Eternity 

The octopus was thrown on canvas 

The emancipator digitized 

Dali moved time when he painted 

And framed the ether for our eyes 

Home

I like to sit outside near where the breeze hits the river

hidden beneath a cacophony of trees

but not so far from the busy streets

that I cant hear the rushing of wheels,

the screaming of sirens and

the crowded orchestra of humanity.

Free Will

Jesus prayed the Fathers cup would pass
but alas the answer came again and again
"drink the dregs, and pay the price of Wrath."
It pleased the Lord to bruise Him for
it brought many sons to Glory.

What about me then Lord?
Should I turn away a bitter cup?
Would I have water when wine
is fitting to the times? Would I be numb
when pain is the road that leads to peace? 
No! I would rather have the bitterness
of God than the sweetness of sin
for the "foolishness of God is wiser than men."

Alignment

I believe in love like I believe in Mars.
It' distant but real.
Mars, that god of war, is Cold, cyclical
and, the Scientists tell me, is always being pulled into
the Great Central Fire by Gravitation.
But from here on Earth that distant red point
is as terrifying in it's sterile beauty
as a woman without laughter.

-Stephan Joseph

Kinetic Action

Now the shockwaves burst our chests
and hearts are all a tremble with the sound of war.
Orange agents curl like heavy smoke around
the beds of sleeping children.
Graves silent as raging waterfalls behind glass walls
Is this moderation? Is this the promise of technology: a future
where rockets never miss their painted targets?
A sky roasting from within, hemorrhaging tracer bullets
into the spangled night?
Tell me now about the humanity of man to man
when  all around us bodies line the streets
and soul after soul is winnowed beneath
the caravans of kinetic action.

-Stephan Joseph

The Call of David

Slender youth but strong,

Red hair swaying with his shepherds

songs. Red curls dancing to his

newest Psalm.

Sandals worn but strong

Leading sheep from Jesses care

Jesses thoughts are far from him.

Winter and summer long,

staff in hand and lyre near,

teaching sheep how not to fear

Showing sheep dead lions beard;

the smell of myrrh was hanging near.

For, Samuel had come,

Calling all the brothers near

finding not the promise there:

David then was called

Leaving the bears carcass there,

Like a lamb he drew near

The Oil on him was poured,

Old Prophets eyes were shining clear

Saying “men are not as they appear”.

Pt.2- Temptation

The devil lays a softer ground under weary feet
A gently sloping path that leads nimbly to defeat

What arrows fly by day and night against our resolutions! 

We grow weary in the tired night looking for solutions.

Heaven sets the strength of men to work in vain affliction,

alone the hurting hands did die that purchased our redemption. 

Single died the carpenter on a callous cross

Abandoned by His God, stricken and abused

Familiar with the wrenching cry of “Father where are You?”

I know that if I die with Him, I shall be raised again

I cling to words un-perishing, promises undimmed.

When my flesh assails me, and the world pretend my friend

When the devil ails me: I see the Heaven Sent!

Alone in dry places, thirsty and enhungered

Pressed into the reddish sand, the yellow sun aflame

He refused the Kingdoms, He refused the bread

He refused the Glory, and chose me instead! 

Pt 1- The Rub

If I'm too tired to spin the wheel the wheel will go unspun;
friends come near and eat their fill,

yet hungers move them on.

 What Gethsemanes we all must face, 

we all must face alone: 
No hand to hold
No hug to have 
No heart to beat in sync, 
The cup we drink the Cross we bear, 

squeeze tears into ink:

and on the dry scrolls of our lives

trials sketch a tin-type

and we like monks pour over them,

 yearning for some insight.

Alas we find the Rosetta

Is Eternal Perspective

and so our lives

Remain exposed

 yet no clearer or uncertain.

To walk by faith is a lonely road,

narrow and constrained

He who tells you otherwise

 Is busy selling something...