My HolyA Poem by Michael Oliverlooking for what is sacred
The christian cup of tea - handed asking
Asking the stiff white collared guru asking the collar - 'So what is Holy?' the claptrap of church speak delivered - squwark Flapping the orbit of praise and acknowledgement Defining God as a celestial numb nuts Ok Yeah - But what is Holy? Can you wrestle Rilke's angel emerging with a crippled reverence Lust after Michaelangelo's cosmic erato Daring to touch beauty with a pink finger Will the knife newly realized at the throat Confirm the exile and the instinct Holy Hidden by the cave - frightened of the imagined Holy That echo whisper darking the volcano and the wind Thrown down petrified in a courtyard While the comforter quickens the Lapiz Lazuli womb At the extremis of pain the memory rebels Shouting at the closing sky 'Lemi Lemi Sabacthani OK -Yeah but what is Holy? Is all this 'Holy' or what ? The spring buds confident and green A BB pencil leaves its dust An evening so transformed - 'Holy?' Ink ground, brush wiped, movements The lines and washes and omissions The Shaman dances 'Holy' on rice paper
© 2014 Michael OliverReviews
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Added on January 9, 2014Last Updated on January 9, 2014 AuthorMichael OliverAboutI like capturing the world in various mediums for a long time I was a painter, but more recently I realize the same imperative can be used to direct words as well as brushes. more..Writing
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