Die dunkelste Nacht

There are too many secrets
surging through me

and they're not all mine.

There's not enough room for them

and they know that.

It's too cold

(but they don't think so)

and I feed them well.

And I watch them devour 

the death that despises me.

There are too many of them hovering 

over me when I sleep.

And the voices sound like mine.

But the terrors from Hell aren't mine.

And my screams don't even curdle their blood,

they entertain them.

Sometimes I am obscene, and it's

all just entertainment.

But when I attack them in the name of God

I'd like back all the things

I don't deserve, please.

And they whisper lies to me at night.

And they ridicule me at night.

And I need to stay awake.

Oh, Dear Jesus may the

scales of lies be shed from my eyes

that believed them.

The slick and sly and skilled disguise

will not be soon forgotten.

Fight, fight fight fight.

Fight fight fight fight fight. Fight.

Fight fight. Bleed. Fight bleed.

No sleep.

It's won.

And isn't this all so convenient

to have another thing to blame but myself.

"Sounds like a personal problem."

You're right.

Good night, darkest night.

Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Teich,
find't ihn keinter gleich. 


Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Graben,
fressen ihn die Raben.


Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Sumpf,
dann macht der Reiter... Plumps!

Alexis Renee

The day you were born,

so were a lot of other babies.

But I only remember one of them

‘cause my parents brought it back to our house.

It’s a good thing, too, because

you make me laugh harder than most people can laugh,

and laughing is a life-lengthener. So, thanks.

I owe most of my life to you.

You’re not just hilarious, though.

You’re good at lots of stuff.

Like writing (even though you don’t think so),

and playing soccer.

I love that you’re so sentimental.

You kept a bunch of acorns from our old house.

And you still have your baby teeth

(but not in your mouth.)

You kept the last grass Cally ever laid on, too.

I watched you watch her die and you cried

so I cried- just like I did when you told me

about Opa sleeping peacefully because God is awake.

As your older sister, I have a responsibility

to teach you how to do things.

I taught you how to shave your legs.

But you taught me how to use a tampon.

I suppose I have to teach you not to do things, too.

Like smoke. I’m glad that made you angry.

Thank you for caring enough to write

me and Kai those notes.

I’m watching you get older through pictures.

You’re beautiful and I’m missing it.

Did you get your eyebrows done recently?

Hahahahaha! Giggs.

I hope you never stop living a life worth writing about

or forget that better things are coming.

Thanks for standing in the lake with me that day

and for holding my hand under the water.

I’d say you have a heart of gold,

but that’s pretty overused so I’ll say

you have a heart of some other precious metal instead.

I’ll let you know when I think of one that’s good enough.

Something That Means Something

Find the beauty of God. That is an imperative sentence. There are 1,618 characters in this poem. It is still a poem even though there are no line breaks. 1,645 if you include the title. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. That is an example of a sentence that includes every letter of the alphabet. Seven letters make up two words that make up the shortest verse in the Bible. Jesus wept. The Bible is made up of sixty-six books. Somebody said if you understand this verse, you don’t need to read anymore. You will have learned everything. Somebody should say something about when to type numbers like this 3 or like this three. When his character cried, John Barth wrote, “His eyes watered, there aren’t enough ways to say that.” I don’t think many ways are necessary. Near my home there is a church where a large sculpture of Jesus hangs from the ceiling. A proper sentence only needs a subject and a verb to be considered complete. He is just above the congregation and I’m worried He’s going to fall down. Sometimes the subject is understood: (You) Go. (You) Be. He is very large and I do not think those cords will support Him. One should not begin a sentence with a conjunction. But I have a friend who says, “He’s tied up pretty good. I’ve never even seen him sway.” Thank God. It is a common misconception that one should refrain from using a preposition to end a sentence with. He doesn’t even sway. English is one of the most difficult languages to learn. A girl I knew used to say, “May God bless you and keep you forever and ever. Amen.” I wrote used to say because she has since died. She used to say this after a sneeze. Did you feel the cool breeze? That is an interrogative sentence. I suppose she would say it still, were she alive. Please (you) interject with a response. And I suppose she would even still mean it. There are a lot of rules to break here. Everyone wants to [say] [do] [be] something that means something. And when you find it, thank Him for it. 

Blessings

From my dear cousin, Ann, to me


I love how God has blessed you

With deep desire for joy.




I love how He has blessed you

With heart that looks for beauty.



I love how He has blessed you

With talents of all sorts.



But first and most of all

I love that He has blessed me

With a cousin fair and lovely,

Who loves me without fail.



No other explanation

Beside the one I claim

Could ever offer evidence

To prove this all unplanned.



God gave us to each other

For reasons oft unseen.



But I love you all the more

Within that mystery.



So, with that in your mind,

Forget not my great love.



But first and most of all,

Forget not ever His.

About a Sign

A bridled tongue
And sundipped pen
Will try to fight for me again--

Through every day that I'll have passed
As long as frigid tremors last
To reach the depths of what I know
(To the extent that it is so)
I'll practice wholly thinking of
The time and space continuum
And hopefully with fist clenched pain
Can stumble out of dreary frame
And into lighted world unknown
By any other than a throne

The bleakness of my eyes' report
Is murdered by my heart's contort
Envisioning acceptance of
The world I know in swing because
Of thoughts and deeds done not by I
But rather, wholesome friend nearby
And I will rest in full despite
The treachery in sound and sight
And inhale every inch that's brought
And finally make love with thought
That books are penned and songs are sung
Indifferent of my breaths when young

I feel its warmth but see it not
(The day the answer is begot)
And clouded mind will finally cease
Disturbing every shred of peace
I will resemble each remark
However wretched, shrewed, or stark
And own my own as given by
A magic giver in the sky
I'll all at once begin to shout
How sea and sky could do without
The story of mistaken trust
Obliterating every "must"

How bittersweet of this conclusion
To coax me from the rash illusion
That I am fully worthy of
The first five movements from above
I'll feel and know when time is best
That my whole vanity's a jest

Were I to wake to find the ground
I walked upon was still around
And tree and rock not marred nor scathed
Positions perfectly arranged
First witnessing the plans unfold
Each plant and person rightly told
Here all exist were I not me
And where I am is where I'll be.

Partly body, mostly soul

From the cradle to the grave

Every day and every trial
I'll exist within my body
It has been with me a while

The bones within me know no purpose
But to steady this mere frame
And my blood, it swims right through me
But it doesn't know my name

My teeth don't really feed me
Though they take what they can find
And if my eyes could see no longer
Well, I doubt they'd even mind

My lips will work together
In order that you hear
All the thoughts I have within me
That they don't know I hold dear

These other vessels for conversing
Will let me hear when there is rain
And they will let in many words
But they will never feel their pain

My fingers do as I command them
So as to grasp the world at hand

And my legs don't choose my goings,

They just run, walk, kick, and stand

Yes, my skin is back to dust

After it plays its earthly role

So I praise the God who made me

Partly body, mostly soul

choices, not answers.

i never understood
"He gives and takes away"
until today.

pensively isolated
and feverishly aware
of the pull on my mind,
i was honest that night

and you are too.

i asked you

to take it away.
take it away.
take it away.

being that you are who you are
you were able to do much more:

you took it away.

but you gave something too.
and i cried and cried
that you gave me you.


and now i know.

loves me the most.

Inconvenient,

rudimentary,

specializations in idolatry

are specks in my eye

at half past five

& I'm running through knolls

that nobody knows

to hide from

the one who loves me the most.

Traffic

Oh what a joy it is
to sit in traffic
with you by my side
for hours.
Seemingly never closer to
our destination
yet ever nearer to the
furthest portions in
the souls of one another.
Let us not contend
that it's a tragedy
standing still awhile.
Instead
let us gurgle with delight
at the time offered now.
To us.
Today.
Together.
We can lather ourselves
in these God-given tick-tocks.
And we'll push aside our flimsy fears
of never getting where we're going.
Because maybe we won't go.
And maybe that's alright--
there's still a light on back home.