[06 May 2006|05:26pm] Each and every swimming cell that lives within my stream, Of vital living consciousness that flows from thought to dream, Has thought in time and thought to self to question what would seem. As blood flows down from heart to ground it pools and yet it pours, The mind holds time against design and bars the broken doors. The message of the mind is clear, no things can stay too static, Seek to end the senselessness don't live your life unmanic. A needle's prick can't end a sigh that started past your grave, The only way to live your life is believe that you are saved. Resurrection and protection stand inside the soul, And yet the only sign they've sent was sent from you you know. The broken brainwashed maniac that follows in my footsteps, Knew my life before I knew that he was living it. Now he follows and he flows yet cannot break away, That broken brainwashed maniac was me a distant day. He's seen the sights that I have seen, he chooses without say. I chose for him to choose for me but didn't like his choice, I think that I will dissect him and lose his broken voice. Wishing through a midnight moon won't raise the spirits plenty, They live a life of destitute their bodies fallen empty. Yet the glow of midnight souls will shelter inner storm, Let them through your guarded gates they'll keep your body warm. Posession is obsession of a single nature, A spirit's goal is through the soul to broaden what you'd make here. Falling from your fingertips the lines that broaden time, Fit your world between them then, the solid and sublime. © Christopher Galpin

Where is the Soul? [06 May 2006|05:25pm] Where is the soul? We looked in the brain, but could not find it. We dissected dogs, and kitty cats... We examined the heads of Mad Hatter's hats... We cut open the stomach and bled the gut dry, For somewhere, oh somewhere, the soul had to lie. "The soul is inside us!" Yet where could it be? From moment to moment, from knuckle to knee? Mid-torso -- the heart! We thought it was found, Ka-thumpa, ka-thumpa, why that's the soul's sound! I leapt in with scalpal, and drove out with knife A spatter of blood red blood spattering life "Aha! Oh my Gosh! It's the Seat of the Soul!" Delicious, nutritious, wait... where did it go? © Christopher Galpin

[06 May 2006|05:18pm] I am a boy, a body born separate from all bondage. I am your love, your light, your compassion and glory. I exemplify myself in all your meandering. I exist for your observation and interception. I am made of clay and molded from my mind. I expect you to treat me with your reverence. Oh why then won't you let me go? What don't I hide inside? The miracle of mine own birth, The hope I might survive? I hope I've already been a mother, a father, a son and survivor. A brother, a lover, a daughter, another... for I don't wish to be again. All your sad soulless sin hoping hope to end? Oh I don't wish to be again, I've had too much already. Oh I don't want to hunt you down, I'd rather live life steady. Oh I don't want to live again, I think I've had it all. Oh I don't want to leave this place, I'm needed for it all. © Christopher Galpin

My Martyr [06 May 2006|02:19pm] My narcissistic angel, You’re trembling and fine. Your throat can hardly breathe And I’ve made your body mine. Your life-force now is sapping, Our blood can freely flow, Your thoughts will drift, enfold in mist And whisper as they go. Our spirits shed their corpse, Our souls are rising high, Girl as I have known your love We’ll see our bodies lie. © Christopher Galpin

A Fool And His Pride [06 May 2006|01:45pm] Nonfiction is fiction as text on a page As magic was tragic if I were a mage But I blink and I blink And I’m growing in rage And the lungs of the mammals Are smoking their sage And I shout and I pout And I cannot make clear All the wrongs of the world Have never been near As a fool and his pride And his pride in his fear And his blood or his cud Or his doubting so dear Would move me to move me To shedding a tear But I’m raging and raging And damning my seer For blinding the blinding And blinding by fear To serve and be served And fall deaf on the ear And I hate ‘em and hate ‘em And hate them You hear! © Christopher Galpin

A Small Boy Once Told Me [06 May 2006|01:45pm] A small boy once told me That the stars in the sky Could no more behold me Than I could my own eye But, as I thought, That cannot be true, While space has no meaning, There’s meaning in you “Dear boy,” I called back “I’m afraid that you’re wrong, There’s love in my life And there’s life in my song” The small boy then cried And amongst all his tears He betrayed me his heart And betrayed me his fears “Indeed,” cried the boy, “But how can I see That there’s meaning in life And there’s meaning in me?” And just then I laughed, And I thought it quite odd This boy is a lad, And this lad is a God! “Your fingers create and they shape all around, Your laughter comes faster than hope can abound, The truth of your life is living inside, And you’re blinded by worry and fear all alive? You create with your hands all your sculptures of clay, And decide in your life all the words of your day, You live and receive and joy to bring truth, Who told you to tell you to fear your own youth? Who told you to tell you to fear your own youth Who told you to tell you and what did they say? That you’re useless and worthless and get in the way? That you’re mistaken and wrong and you’ll never know life? That you’re little, and lost, and you’ve never known strife? This space has no meaning, Nor the sight of your eyes, But the distance between Every man and his dream Is closer than the truth in your lies.” © Christopher Galpin

Abashed [06 May 2006|01:44pm] A twisted world of fancies fair Lives and grows within. A mixing message of hopes and cares Would seek some solace then. When wave would come and dash a shore And tear a scar or bleed a whore, A light would shine to bring an end Of all your twisted fancies then. And when love would grow too strong, And hate would come and speak his song, All things will sink to hell Just when your fancies learn to live again. And bashing brains against a wall Is true, and hails a mighty call A different disease rises. Fortune comes and lives his fate Amidst a world of love and hate, And fury of the Gods above Would dash his mind And dash his love. © Christopher Galpin

Awakening [06 May 2006|01:44pm] Oh I'm surrounded by a storm... While I am standing still. I'm pulled and ripped and torn, But I will never kill. Oh I'm encompassed in a light... Though I thought I stood alone, I'll be proven wrong tonight; And know all that I have known. And another ego rises, As another ego dies. And a new moon is waxing, As a newer moon cries. Everything that I see… Destined to be a part of me. Everything that I do… Destined too. © Christopher Galpin

Behold Beheld [06 May 2006|01:43pm] Behold beheld my nature dear, Quite doubtful that you’re living here, I thought that you had yet to keep, The penance of a dieing beat. Don’t you see this winter month Can’t help but be here helped at once, And why won’t winter lend his aid To your task or to our day? Behold beheld my winter dear, Oh can’t you tell I’m living here? From the bows and from the trees, I hang my love with such dis-ease That you can mend it, break or stay, Or winter won’t you pass away? © Christopher Galpin

Disarmed [06 May 2006|01:41pm] I'll find someone for myself though she won't be like you but she'll be wonderful too ...yet until I do I'm thinking of a thousand diamonds in the sky I'm wondering where amongst my stars you lie I'm thinking of your place within my heart I'm hoping you have given me a start... You never took back the things you said That I may have found unkind Yet you hide the truth of things I've often held in mind I take back anything I've said that ever caused you harm But I can't withdraw from you I'll only now disarm The simple truth I've yet to face is it matters more to me That you understand my love with all simplicity We quote in opposition all the thoughts we had one time You admit you like to mimic; I’m a hypocritic mime © Christopher Galpin

How Managed I [06 May 2006|01:40pm] How managed I to meet This wonder of my mind, How pleased some patron saint That by some idle moment quaint He pulled her out of time. How pleasing doth her visage be That I might gaze upon it, How melodious her voice it sounds, That within my heart resounds, A chord of life and sonnet! How managed I to make This most pleasant find; An angel in a state of grace Who treads in steps divine. © Christopher Galpin

Poem of Poems [06 May 2006|01:38pm] A poor little poet boy Sure likes to write in rhyme, But this little poet boy Can’t turn them in on time. He scribbles what he really thinks And has a hundred poems, Yet what he thinks and what he writes Have been for him alone. The poor little poet boy Has doubt that he can do, Such simple little poems of late Nor poems of lateness too. Yet this little poet boy Has found his paper’s calling, To be turned in as poem of poems And stifle teacher’s bawling! © Christopher Galpin

My Mistaken Love [06 May 2006|01:37pm] You silly silly girl, you cannot get away I am prepared psychically for whatever comes my way You do not make me sad, though you think you do You do not make me question love though I question you When a good thing comes your way – you cannot let it go You draw to you the things you need in a way you hardly know If someone loves you truly – and you’ve always been with them But now you are loved dually and you’re fearing for an end And you know that you’re at fault – yet you cannot make it fit I guarantee you know inside that this was never it You never made a fault You were not then mistaken © Christopher Galpin

Oil of Canvas [06 May 2006|01:36pm] It is a simple picture, Its meaning’s not sublime, Its image is an ancient oak Deep-rooted in the rhine. It’s left of the horizon, And colored shades of pale, This picture is a ghastly ghost Of season’s simple tale. The leaves have fallen from its main, Its limbs are reaching out, The night is living and it’s dusk, Though ink is dripping out… It’s running down its bark… It’s soaking in its soil… This canvas is conveying life This canvas blood is oil. © Christopher Galpin

Past Belief [06 May 2006|01:36pm] You’re looking to your future But you’re thinking of your past, You’re dividing up your time And you’ve left your present last. Memory is a tool And it’s not for your abuse, It can obey the conscious mind If you would learn its use. Now to think you’re at the mercy Of what occurred before, Is to deny the natural beauty Of what you're living for. If you try to understand How your present is your past, You’ll free yourself from worry And your hope won’t fade so fast. If you change what you believe was done You’ve changed your past as well, And so if you would trust in faith You’ll see it serves us well. Now is where we’re living then, And so now know you’ve always been A patron of the present And as time exists in mind, You’re free to flow and seek to find The joy of lifetimes pleasant. © Christopher Galpin

Quite An Angel, Really [06 May 2006|01:35pm] You’re quite an angel really. Though do not take me wrong, For as it means a thousand things You’ll have to read along. You’re quite an angel really, Your purpose is as strong, Among all the life that’s ever lived No soul could more belong. You grace life with your beauty, And beguile us with your charm, And of all the words you’ve ever spoke You’ve brought more love than harm. © Christopher Galpin

Sinking Mind Slow Motion Spin [06 May 2006|01:34pm] When you’re in a sinking mind, Feel free to make the call. When you’re of a doubting state, I’ll ease your gentle fall. When you tumble And you spin Hope can hope To blossom then. Slow motion spin, From this space in air and wind, The feathers flutter as you fall, The sun shines on your hair. The ground will break beneath it all, And eternity… waits: Change of mind and change of time Follows neatly change of rhyme… And rhythm is the saintly flow Of thoughts and love And reasons know All things exist ONLY to show The wonder Of our Lives! © Christopher Galpin

Change Is Best When From A Rest [06 May 2006|01:32pm] Can your reason fathom from whence you came? Or is the light no longer shining there? Does truth or love or light within thee reign Or are you still at rest, and none so fair? Will tides hold true and wake thee at thy best, Or see your darken mantle’s death hold doom? Will thou relieve thee of thy stricken breast, Or hold it close as thou would have thy gloom? Thy reason’s folly is but none thy own, Thy dispersed life is but of thine own mind. If you don’t claim as yours that which you’ve sown, You’ve left us for your worry, and still blind.      So listen now, in counsel of thy fate,      An unclaimed life dies waiting for its mate. © Christopher Galpin

Faux Sonnet [06 May 2006|01:28pm] Mistaken thoughts of but mine own, Have here been taken, and misthrown. Weaved and warped between their eyes I nay can tell which ones were lies, Though written once in hand but honest, Thy simple truth stands long dishonest. Crumbling then, unto this dust, Thy fault known not but thine own lust, Which betwixt thee and thy mate, Have oft misled this self to hate, I’ve wronged. And so mistaken much, I leave thy selves as they were such.      That you might know, and joy to see,      Another life been long from thee. © Christopher Galpin

The Cat [06 May 2006|01:27pm] my poem isn’t late my time isn’t now the letters aren’t missing the writing knows its how the poet isn’t blind he knows how he has spoke the poet finds his time the poet tells a joke the waves of water clash the sound of trumpets brass the castle feels its stone it’s as cold as it has known the dimensions of my life are sparse and separated true dimensions of my life don’t leave me frustrated the cat cannot seem to purr if it is out of time nor need a name to name itself the cat is simply mine © Christopher Galpin

navigation [ viewing | most recent entries ] [ go | earlier ]