“Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.” – Thomas Gray

 

Written by Eddie Jackson

 

 

 

 

 

 

Best of Times

It was the best of times.

And even in the trance of summer,
I would drown wasp and wolf,
and set fire to the stems of life.

And while glitter shown in my eyes,
milk and honey dripped from the heavens,
and the sonata would fill the valley.

And, though, the sands never stopped,
it was but magic and mystery in the wind,
and time never bent to the shadows.

 

The Lion, the Bear, and the Dragon

This is the story about the Lion, the Bear, and the Dragon. Three immortal rulers built kingdoms that touched the sky, and they ruled their vast empires with the fiery of the gods.

But, once upon a time, a bird of prey flew high, and its shadow was severe. In quest of conflict, the three immortals would fight as one. With bow in hand, the beasts shot a flaming arrow through the heart of royal feather. The bird would fall into ashes, and into the stillness of its past.

From concert and accord, the mighty titans returned to their kingdoms. The three great beasts, who wore three black crowns, learned to wield might and magic that could split the very essence of life, and crack heavens and earth.

Through fate, cast in destiny, the Lion, the Bear, and the Dragon would live as gods among men. But, their eternal forms were restless and their thoughts full of chaos. In their kingdoms, high in their castles, the three monstrous creatures would hoard providence and fortune, to cleave hope from spirit, soul from man.

The starkness of truth was set in tears of blood.

All that there was, all that there is, and all that there will ever be, is theirs until the end of time.

World War II

Day and night, devils and diamonds fell from the sky
the passion of suffering was all gold could buy

Mechanical monsters and masters of fate,
both heaven and hell would endure their weight

There in the darkness of stumps and stones
lay the souls of the damned, in ash and bones

Through smoke and fire, victory would wake
in the end, 50 million it would take

The Gods are Dead

The ancient gods, a distant mystery
the reigning kings, of human history
A tiny universe, in a grain of sand
a world turns, in the palm of their of hand

They build their castles, in the sky
never pondering, you or I
The highest lord, the lowest savior
beckons belief, and questions behavior

If we are, to stand alone
then the laws that are, should be our own
If the gods fail, and will not act,
then justice must be, no more a fact

In the end, there is only you
who walks this life, as you do
The stronger you are, the further you’ll go
this is the gospel, all that I know

Love Thieves

There a distant shore, little love thieves live
On the sandy beach, the passion they give

In the night, dancing around the fire
Never so happy, so much desire

Sing and dance, the hours drift away
Never the night end, they want to stay

Suddenly they fly, like in their dreams
They go so high, soaring it seems

If they do wake, from this deepest sleep
Life no more, they want to keep

Lost in Time

A flame upon the candle
And a shadow in the corner
There might have been a love
If only I had known her.

Somewhere on this malicious earth
Lies the single rhythm of life
Hidden and devisely secluded
In the spider web of strife.

The offer of a clear music
Has never been dimly made
With the ruthless vast duration
A lonely ghost will soon portray

 

Shadow Thoughts

dark corners lit with neon edges
crooked walls held together by tape

men that look like rain
and women that are the sun

every day, a new oldest adventure
in a thoughtless circle of marbles

music, life, and love
all like a plastic, glass diamond

with binary in my heart
and circuits in my brain

with a sad faith in one hand
and a happy fiction in the next

not hardly a place to live
on this cold rock I call home

Wonderland

follow the black rabbit
down the white rabbit hole

tell the mad hatter to drink the hot tea
but give him some cold coffee

drink me and eat me
but stay nothing but the same

mass confusion makes sense
and logical sense stirs the madness

they tell Miss Alice she is a boy
but we accept her as a girl

you cannot be so sad
not in such a happy place

in a world that is falling down
and down that is falling up

the Chester cat tells all the truths
and you tell all the lies