In the Spider's Web

In the Spider's Web

by Tim Reed

blessëd the pain, for it spake life's might

blessëd the struggle, for it promised swift flight

curse this vile numbness embracing me

curse this vile indifference - apathy

they are the spade biting the earth of the coffin-hole

they are the calculated diplomacy of a ruthless foe

and while silken vestments coo and soothe

fangs spite the lies and intentions prove

Mimicry

Mimicry

by Tim Reed

the smell of wet earth

the crack of distant thunder

signify more than an army of wedding bells

or a thousand brash headlines

What is Wisdom?

What is Wisdom? 

by Tim Reed

What is wisdom

but a collection of mugs

yellowed pages, softly waiting

tear-painted handkerchiefs

concert-tickets

a simple pane of glass looking upon paradise? 

A look that is a Library

a word that is a Painting

wisdom is like the wind

only known when its gale bends an oak

or its breeze fills a soul

its grandeur is not the gold filigree of a museum

but the heart framed in a wrinkled eye

this is wisdom, and nothing more

Slave to Someday

Slave to Someday

by Tim Reed

How blind the eyes of the slave to someday

as he stumbles past the now in tragic display

The Future Is A Blank Page

The Future is a Blank Page

by Tim Reed

rapt agony grips the blank page waiting

while, in his mind, the poet is articulating

Thinking About Thinking

Thinking About Thinking

by Tim Reed 

swift coursing river or stagnant delta crawling

deep dark springs lead to bright waters falling

Remain

Remain

by Tim Reed

He bids me to stay, to stand, to fight
while world in gaiety spins around
 Remain through day and heartless night
 to seek the seeker and in finding, be found.

To count as mere nothing a tumult of steps
 a vault of cheap smiles
 an abyss of vain words
but rather breathe fire and rend open soul
 To do more than stay - to remain.

In this way may I gain
 a shadow of that lone great form
 who, unmoved by all, sits in plain view of all the stars
 flung, fleeing
 before the glimmering eye and steady gaze
 of he who wears proudly the name
"Remain"

And I, though I be a lesser light,
bear witness to that steadfast one
though marked I am by this feeble frame
am filled to full by his unbound might

And when life as music-box winds to stop
and as the sweet melody ends refrain
 So may I wear his green laurel proud
 and show in its glory the name - "Remain"

Imputation

Imputation

by Tim Reed

you cloak with Honor

- my coward-stripes -

(as I ran from the spears)

(as I ran from the tears)

you work your Pity stronger

 - than all my vile fears -

Hands

Hands

by Tim Reed

"The closest thing I ever had to a door were these two hands.

An inglorious fusion of effort and circumstance."

"Gnarled and growing, they took hold of me like some cancerous being."

"These hands."

"These two wretched hands."

"Do you know what it is to fear yourself? To become a victim of your own M.O.?"

"Suddenly you find yourself surrounded by yourself, and at your throat: 

your own two hands."

"A door? Say more an electric chair. A noose. A vial of capital punishment."

"But this is a kangaroo court. The dishonorable judge is presiding."

A jury of pointing fingers. 

A fist around a gavel.

Twisting keys in cell doors. 

"This door has turned into a nightmare."

"These hands have become a liability."

Each joint, muscle, and sinew is a reason not to trust

these hands."

"The closest thing I had to an enemy?"

"These hands."

L | i | n | e | s

L | i | n | e | s

by Tim Reed

they | rage | against | the | lines

they / tear \ down / the \ signs

all for the gospel* of progress

My Window Faces South

My Window Faces South

by Tim Reed

My window faces South.

It always has, for as long as I can remember.

Mountain air rocked my cradle

adventure filled my lungs

Joy and surprise shod my feet - 

Innocence, the cry from my chest.

Life was good in those days,

and my window faced the South.

Next came fire and ice.

Black and white clothed my vision.

Passion and quest beset me - 

they alone held the skeleton key to my heart-doors.

Wit was my friend in that time.

Sabres of debate and humor clashed as I spoke.

Sparks of life flew back then,

and my window faced the South.

Then a cold draft of sorrow crept into my bones

a tempering grey colored my eyes

Death. . .  dogged my steps

Ashes became my robe.

I felt old, and my mind was a century

but my window faced the South. 

A new wind now brushes away cobwebs.

Ashes are replaced by tender plant-roots.

Spring's warm kiss placates Snow's gloomy stare

Perhaps the young once more effuses the air.

A red sun beckons.

Unknown voices clamor. 

I know there is life left in this frame. 

How do I know? 

My window faces the South. 

It always has, for as long as I can remember.

I was made for living.

Psalm of Gethsemane

Psalm of Gethsemane

by Tim Reed

"Arise!" they yell to me

caring nothing for my sackcloth

"Fight!" they scream

as I meekly say "I surrender"

I have been brought low

but I will remain

nothing will rob me of my sorrow

I will not arise and fight

the hand of the One I trust

I will not lift a finger to save myself

Voices adjure from all sides

to multiply my words

to amplify my cries

to command with conviction

Who am I to know all ends?

I will not be arrogant in my prayers

or be presumptuous in my requests

Rather, I ask for a heart of faith

and a servant's song

With shattered heart

I utter only four words

"Your will be done."

Musings on Creation

By Tim Reed

     We, as humans, use the creation story as a limitation to God. True, it's difficult to imagine a God who speaks the universe into existence. However, have we stopped to consider that this was by no means somehow the maximum of his ability?
     He chose to create that which is on the very border of our ability to understand, showing that his truth revealed in nature is enculturated at the deepest level imaginable - it is voluntarily limited to the pea-brained intellect of mankind. Even the creation account is at once a display of God's power as it is his pity. It is a statement of man's potential as it is his weakness.

Endurance

Endurance

by Tim Reed

with foot swift
and fiery eye
keep to the course
pace, intensify

in dark day
when sun is dead
look skyward
raise your head

through cold night
eternity long
nothing can quench
unbridled song

at last moment
looking above
sorrows dissolve
in the Savior's love

The Great Boa

The Great Boa

By Tim Reed

rope of black eyes

cold and strong

Will you rise to meet me?

Will I stumble to greet you?

Others do not see you, but those should fear.

I do not fear the coils of Hades

Nor the heat of Perdition's flames

- icy burning coals set in black orbs -

I see you, but oh

my hand is steady

my foot swift

I refuse to jump the Great Boa

but I will meet him

I refuse to jump the Great Boa

but my heel will gladly crush his head

rope of black eyes

dead and cold

the Great Boa rises no more - forever

The Spark

The Spark

by Tim Reed

A Torch feeds on flesh

the aching rebellion

against fate made behind sealed doors

footfalls scatter Embers

Golden Burning Eyes

cannot pierce the night's shawl of ink

but as a thought, a laugh of wind

above soars on eddies of revolution

a Spark

a Fire

a Deluge

Heat rising - roaring

"I Will Be Heard!"

"I Will Be Known!"

Orange fingers close around a ball of ash

but all crumbles like the hope of fading love

earth's tears tame the flaming leviathan

doors and ink again conspire

...but a Spark remains

such has it always been

Strange Schism

Strange Schism

by Tim Reed

Strange, how one idea can 

estrange two people

Strange, how two people can

split a whole family

Strange, how two families can

divide a nation

Strange, how two nations can

destroy a world

Strange, how two worlds change

existence forever

Strange, how easily it is

to divide

All for one idea

And

All for the lack of one idea

All Ends Well That Ends

All Ends Well That Ends

by Tim Reed

No one can predict the outcome of a gilded tongue

That spoken in deceit

- if planted in a field of virtue - 

may reap truth

That spoken in hatred

- if met by a heart ablaze -

may forge riches of love

That spoken to enslave

- if told to an unbound soul -

may inaugurate liberty

A shell of darkness and filth

may conceive the richest of jewels

No man curses the inglorious scythe

but they rather praise the harvest

Please

Please

by Tim Reed

Undefinable

Unstoppable

Ineffaceable

That moment when a man was reduced to one word

"Please."

How Could I Have Known?

How Could I Have Known?

by Tim Reed

How could I have known? 

Call it ignorance.

I took a step.

I said yes.

How could I have known?

Call it naïvety.

I didn't expect roses,

nor did I expect dungeons.

How could I have known?

Call it blindness.

I turned my face.

I turned my feet.

How could I have known?

My eyes saw the swells

my feet faltered

I lost your voice in the wind.

How could I have known?

when my castles fell

when my banks burned

when my advisers fled

How could I have known?

the Loving Hand could crush

the Crushing Foot could build

the Builder's plan would stand

How could I have known?

my path was paved in blood

watered with tears

lead through desolate places

How could I have known?

...but this I know.

That you love me.

That you lead me.

That you shield me.

How could I have known?

I couldn't.

I can't.

But...

I know you.

And that's enough.