Viaticum (the complete series)

Tags

Complete, creative, Creative writing, faith, history, Humanity, inspiration, poems, poetry, politics, Series, Truth, verse, Viaticum, writing

For anyone who is interested (and has the patience) and for the sake of cohesion I have collated the previous nine pieces:

Mary

The sacrifice is on the table,

The gift I would lay down,

To dive into your ocean

Be swallowed by your swell.

But deep within your soul,

I feel rejection rise,

Taste the words from your mouth

Of unholy unworthiness.

Am I too pure, too perfect,

If only you knew,

How earth-held pleasures

Rise up within me.

I catch the tear as it slips,

Feel your touch at my feet,

But what words can I find

To unlock the truths?

What words can I find,

To show you the man,

Without the walls of your world

Coming crashing down?

 

 

Mother Ambition

Look at me now

Eyes blinded by pride

Stand tall amongst

Your allies

And shield yourself

From truth.

Your creation stands

Before the desperate fall

And voices cry

To feel the words

You could never

Form.

Does the image

Make the man so

Understated I stand

Arms asunder

Face so torn

From pleading.

And did I disappoint

From child to man

I fell

Drowned in expectation

Desire to do

Your will.

 Yet still they cry

Fuelled by your love

Your folly

The time I lost

I cannot set

Them free.

And look at me now

Eyes blinded by tears

Wept solely

For me

The failures of men

Your pride.

 

 

Wooden Hands

Knotted fingers work their skill

Sculpting nature’s giants,

As passion flows through hands

Designed to make things new.

Hematic flow from skin to grain

Rekindles life anew,

This touch like cryptesthesia

Animation from the dead.

And now you try to steal this love

To touch another’s flesh,

To breathe life within a kiss

And raise an amaranthine army.

These hands show dried and lifeless

Now splintered from mis-use,

Cut from weeping saplings

And drowned in blood of men.

 

Comatose

In catatonic catacombs you lay

As motionless as the temple,

Rising, monolithic, overshadowing,

Watching, guarding each mortal move.

Silent as the sermon’s words

Falling hollow from mouths,

Distorted by power, passionless,

Detached, unhinged, obsessed.

Led beyond the wailing

Imploring desperate eyes,

Hands as twisted as my psyche,

Grasping, indign, at flakes of faith.

Shallow chest, no sound no breath

Shroud pulled down from pallid lips,

My words, no meaning,

Crumble as they fall.

Moments crawl across the stone

I stretch a hand to leave,

A twitch, a blink; a rattled gasp,

In that misfortuned pause.

My feet fail as you stir

I have no place to go,

We walk as one, the jinx is broke,

Fate, it seems, is blind.

 

Sermon

If you would let your

Smothered ears listen,

And hear the words that spew

Like fire from my heart,

Wrenched like flesh from

Somewhere buried deep

Deep beneath the consciousness

That rises from the ground.

 

Let them settle

Grow within your mind,

At last to realise

That this curse that falls on you

Falls from another’s hand,

Take this severance

Permission to be, to leave

And not to cling to servitude.

 

 

In Love With You

This is the reason

That I came here

And suffered

At their hands.

The reason that

I stayed here

And followed

Scriptures road.

This is the passion

That flows in me

The blood and

Sweat and fear.

At times to see no

Other but you

My hope my

Life my fare.

And was I blinded

Eyes scarred to see

Eclipsed from truth

Meant for me?

Fell so far from grace

Another hand

Lost to me

In your eye.

This is the reason

I stayed for you

Impure

Love you knew.

The touch, your tear

The one I knew

A kiss of

Death from you.

 

 

A Final Feast

Take this bread

And break my bones

The suffering of a man.

Don’t drown yourself

As the wine is passed

But read me if you can.

I don’t want my

Words to touch you

Leaving inspiration.

Find your own path

There is no other

No promised nation.

In your heart

There is the spark

A door to make things new.

So take this bread

All I can give

And to your heart be true.

And you, my love

Will leave for me

And give to me my peace.

 

 

The Last Visit

And all of this is still to come,

You say with sharp and twisted tongue,

And set out scenes before the sky,

To bring salt water to dead eyes.

 

This hate, these lies, a swarming plague,

Reach out eternal in my sway,

Vitriolic fields of fire,

Single souls who walk the wire.

 

Reveal to me hopeless despair,

From those who chose too much to care,

And those who lay down in my name,

Wilful suffering for my shame.

 

And now you split the clouds with war,

Angelic host who keep the score,

And who will rise to heaven above,

And who will take the sacred cloth?

 

Then from another’s point of view,

You lift this faith with arms askew,

To shackle souls whose will will sink,

As from the sacred cup they drink.

 

Perception blurred, they walk again,

To find anomalies in men,

And raise the banner of belief,

A cut too deep to gain relief.

 

I search my voice and try to cry,

The road you show, it is not mine,

But what remains is your soft smile,

I cannot change this life must die.

 

And as you fade your arms are lost,

I cannot calculate this cost,

But you misunderstood my time,

Your name will bleed in time with mine.

 

Through My Eyes

Can you see how I’m pinned

Wear my heart on my sleeve

Bloodied and wearied

Down on my knees.

Can you sense this life wane

Feel the guilt in your core

Flow free like the wine

I’ll give no more.

Can you feel these tears burn

See the truth through my eye

Cold now as marble

Not asking why.

Can you see past this time

To dead futures to come

Reach out in regret

Know what you’ve done.

 

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Viaticum 9 – Through My Eyes

Tags

creative, faith, Humanity, poems, poetry, politics, Relationships, Series, Through my eyes, Truth, verse, Viaticum, writing

This is the concluding piece in this series:

Can you see how I’m pinned

Wear my heart on my sleeve

Bloodied and wearied

Down on my knees.

Can you sense this life wane

Feel the guilt in your core

Flow free like the wine

I’ll give no more.

Can you feel these tears burn

See the truth through my eye

Cold now as marble

Not asking why.

Can you see past this time

To dead futures to come

Reach out in regret

Know what you’ve done.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

Viaticum 8 – The Last Visit

Tags

Betrayal, creative, faith, future, Life, poems, poetry, politics, Relationships, Series, The last visit, Truth, verse, Viaticum, Vision, writing

And all of this is still to come,

You say with sharp and twisted tongue,

And set out scenes before the sky,

To bring salt water to dead eyes.

 

This hate, these lies, a swarming plague,

Reach out eternal in my sway,

Vitriolic fields of fire,

Single souls who walk the wire.

 

Reveal to me hopeless despair,

From those who chose too much to care,

And those who lay down in my name,

Wilful suffering for my shame.

 

And now you split the clouds with war,

Angelic host who keep the score,

And who will rise to heaven above,

And who will take the sacred cloth?

 

Then from another’s point of view,

You lift this faith with arms askew,

To shackle souls whose will will sink,

As from the sacred cup they drink.

 

Perception blurred, they walk again,

To find anomalies in men,

And raise the banner of belief,

A cut too deep to gain relief.

 

I search my voice and try to cry,

The road you show, it is not mine,

But what remains is your soft smile,

I cannot change this life must die.

 

And as you fade your arms are lost,

I cannot calculate this cost,

But you misunderstood my time,

Your name will bleed in time with mine.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

Viaticum 5 – Sermon

Tags

creative, faith, Humanity, poems, poetry, politics, Relationships, Series, Sermon, verse, Viaticum, writing

 If you would let your

Smothered ears listen,

And hear the words that spew

Like fire from my heart,

Wrenched like flesh from

Somewhere buried deep

Deep beneath the consciousness

That rises from the ground.

 

Let them settle

Grow within your mind,

At last to realise

That this curse that falls on you

Falls from another’s hand,

Take this severance

Permission to be, to leave

And not to cling to servitude.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

Sooted Kisses

Tags

creative, Deception, faith, poems, poetry, politics, verse, writing

Digging so deep

Deep beneath the soil

The rocks that strain up to meet me

Like the souls of the sleepless dead

Their voices echoing in the chambers

Of a restless head

Abandoned too late not to leave scars

Backlit by dreams that missed

The Mayday call

That sank like rain on charred and thirsty earth

Still weeping in the splintered light

Which fell fractured through the cracks

Pick axe cut and soaked

In miner’s bloody tales

Those buried in loss and hollow-eyed

Blinded by the notion of all they’d lost

And all they’d never find

Their nasal words

Choked in sooted kisses promised from above

That slip like venomous snakes

Into their lungs

To silence the echoes in the hearts

That strike a soundless beat

That roars with anger

In my ears.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

They Said

Tags

Control, creative, faith, Lies, poems, poetry, politics, Promises, They Said, Truth, verse, writing

They said the Sun would always rise,

The clouds would always clear,

They said the light would always burn,

Beneath the wall of tears.

They said that this was all a game,

The rules we never learned,

They said that they would hold our hands,

But never said they’d burn.

They said that we would have our day,

That waiting always paid,

They said that all of this was ours,

Behind their backs the blade.

They said that if we held out nerve,

The steel in our backs,

They said that if we learned to bend,

Our spines would never crack.

They said that when we heard the bell,

We’d know just how to act,

They said that when it came to this,

They’d never break the pact.

They said that time would be our friend,

And shield us from our fears,

They said the Sun would always rise,

And the clouds would always clear.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Wooden Pieces

Tags

Communication, conflict, Creative writing, faith, history, Humanity, Life, poems, poetry, politics, Principles, religion, time, verse, writing

Above the birds circled

Silhouette patterns in the sky,

Monochromatic mosaics which shuffled like aging hands

Moving wooden pieces across a board

In some endless game,

Watching, always watching

Waiting for that killer move

That only Time knew

Would never come,

As far below, talking monkeys

Hurled sticks and stones across the fields,

Reached over the seas to tear the rage on others such as them

Moving invisible pieces across a board

As if they had a goal,

Forgetting that they had the gift

Of sound and word and voice,

Turning time upside down

As if it bore the blame,

And still above their sightless heads

The shadows wove designs,

Building plans like those before who came and failed and fell

Moving broken pieces across a board

As if there were a point,

Waiting, always waiting

Til aching wings gave way

Above the spinning rock

As silent Time fell still.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

What Use Are My Words?

Tags

Communication, conflict, creative, Creative writing, Depression, faith, history, Inequality, Life, Love, poems, poetry, politics, Principles, Progress, religion, Truth, verse, war, Words, writing

What use are my words

If the shells still fall

From black-heart open skies

And bombs still separate limb

From torso

On a whim?

If lover’s nights are torn asunder

Each phrase of love declared

And punctuated by the rifle’s kiss

As bullets fly through skies

To deafen out the

Infant’s cries?

If families fractured fall apart

Their bodies as their homes

And stuffed in ragged bags

They walk on paths anew

Hopes and lives askew?

 

What use are my words

If every judgement still

Depends on colour, race or creed

And not on who we are

Those who act so blind

Injustice our own kind?

If passion is fuelled by hatred

And shouted from the stands

Evolution’s backward stare

Feet that stomp and pound

Like we never left the ground?

If all that we can show

Is intolerance and hate

To mask the failings in ourselves

To stick within our clan

And say this is the Plan?

 

What use are my words

If all that we believe

Serves not to heal but pull apart –

Words lost behind the rhetoric –

And sets us off to goad

The wrong way down the road?

If our deities stand toe to toe

As we become the baying throng

Applauding every blow

Forgetting that it’s all a game

And they are all the same?

If faith is lost behind the mask

And we think ourselves the show

Where Glory resides in riches

And ceremony makes us tall

Hidden safe behind our wall?

 

What use are my words

If those who shout the loudest –

The basest of our kind –

Earn mandate over all of us

To wield the sharpened sword

And cut the final cord?

If none of us is equal

And power comes through privilege

Whilst on green fields they scheme

To hold on to the wealth

Through division and through stealth?

If birth outweighs our merits

When change is just a word

And nothing brings a greater good

As islands we shall ever stay

To never see a brighter day?

 

What use are my words?

 

We Waited

Tags

creative, faith, poems, poetry, politics, religion, Truth, verse, writing

We waited in the dust

We stood there in the sand,

We wallowed in our comfort

Waiting for a hand.

We waited in the snow

We slipped beneath the ice,

We swallowed down our pride

But never asked the price.

We waited in the temple

We knelt before the sign,

We waited for forgiveness

A gift that wasn’t mine.

We waited by the water

We hoped would wash us clean,

We stared towards the sky

For things we’d never seen.

We waited for redemption

Absolution from our sin,

We waited out forever

To find we hoped on nothing.

 

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

Waif

Tags

Childhood, creative, Inequality, poems, poetry, politics, Power, Truth, verse, writing

A wallflower

Still and rooted

Held fast by threads invisible,

Bare-footed and

Lithe-limbed

Dirt ingrained like DNA

Seeping through veins

That know no different,

Knees tucked

Up tight beneath

A chin scuff-marked

By experience’s children

Grazes which, like timeless heirlooms,

Pass down the ages

Storm waters of our age

As older eyes,

Nicotine-yellow,

Look no further than today,

And those judgemental

On high-borne thrones

Cast down their bones

Complete the wall

And keep the wheels

In motion.