tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37600555935354945012024-03-07T21:14:29.990-06:00poetries & confessions.| lay down | lay down your weary tune | lay down the song you strum and rest yourself | 'neath the strength of strings no voice can hope to hum | and let the morning breeze like a bugle blow against the drums of dawn | and be struck by the sounds before the sun knowing that the night is gone | and stand unwound beneath the skies and clouds unbound by laws | unbound by laws | and rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings no voice can hope to hum |Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-12794059294325302832018-01-31T19:34:00.000-06:002018-01-31T19:34:44.619-06:00On BlameTell me in the morning, I'm the one keeping you from sleep.
Tell me in the evening, I'm the one been giving you grief.
Tell me all day long, make me the subject songs,
saying, You wonder why you did, "I do."
Well, this ringing in my ear's getting clearer.
It ain't me, babe. It's you.
Said, Hope rises in the morning on the wings of a dove.
Well, this one's dying or's fallen asleep by lunch.
Seen Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-69878703031191734762017-12-11T02:57:00.002-06:002018-01-31T18:44:48.408-06:00On Thickening Skin
Oh, it ain't like it used to beIt's never like it was
Each time I come home I'm a stranger in love
with your madness disguised as a dove
You're not looking for peace
when you're out for blood
But each time I come home
I'm stranger in love.
Oh it ain't like it used to be
Never like it wasA flame gone to ember's not the light that it was
Yet here in shadows-stretching making our own stuff'sRileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-80559169407710884992015-09-07T01:20:00.001-05:002017-12-11T03:40:12.820-06:00On Going Onwards and UpwardsGate narrow, path steep...
ever so dizzy from the winding streets
and the options there that are there to meet,
with such friendly faces
all full of teeth
...that sink so deep.
Pulled onward, very slow,
but two lines trailing in the mountain snow,
as too-tight the knot of a distant rope
finds lariat burning, slipping hard on the soul.
In time, I'll make it, I told myselfRileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-27868910764432019962015-03-22T11:30:00.002-05:002016-02-19T02:57:54.967-06:00A man buried his dead dog and got sad. Was two days after and he hadn't washed.
Midway up the vee of a large-print brown flannel about the spot in town he’d’ve buttoned it, the ten o'clock hour reflected itself off a pool of sweat and sadness drawn up in a slouching man's chest.
He wasn't talking, lips tight as the lid of the tea jar leftwise. A head sunk toward a heart days sunk. Thoughts came slow and dissipated, grew in Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-76799756455371991972014-09-22T01:29:00.001-05:002015-09-07T00:36:35.878-05:00On Thickening SkinOh, it ain't like it used to be,
never like it was.
Each time I come home,
I'm a stranger in love
with your madness.
Disguised as a dove,
you ain't looking for peace
when you're out for blood.
But, each time I come home,
I'm stranger in love.
Ain't like it used to be,
never like it was.
Flame gone to ember's
not the light that it was.
But here in shadows stretching
making our Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-83776478738052749852014-02-01T12:37:00.002-06:002014-04-08T21:18:14.444-05:00Attention
Would you with Jesus daily walk
only in one direction,
o're the waves on the storms of life
like Peter with fixed attention?
Would you rise or faithless fall
with your soul's affection?
Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-32541060348583319722014-02-01T12:15:00.002-06:002016-02-19T03:22:16.917-06:00SparksIn the cool of the morning
I croon to you warning
of arms that would hold you
till dark
as up we lay asking
at God's kindness basking
at those sparks in a dark
lonely sky
We're but sparks in a dark lonely sky
just sparks in a dark lonely sky
I would ever-be never without you my love
my spark in a dark lonely life.
Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-59254825593389130152014-01-28T16:49:00.001-06:002016-02-19T03:30:26.864-06:00The ShuffleIn the movement of the waters
in the shaking of a kiss
in the silent prayer preceded
a most feared and reverent wish
to the Maker
of our love known now
in revolving states of bliss…
Turn I to that memory
 Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-88086425272684585432013-11-16T02:28:00.002-06:002015-09-07T00:38:42.642-05:00Measured Amounts of Faith and Hope, Measured Results of Peace and RestThere's a deep, sweet well of peace and rest
for the Christian soul to try.
If he's brave enough to humbly come,
there is endless and good supply.
So...
Drink my brothers, my sisters, my fellow
heirs in the grace of life.
There is only as much as your faith and hope
in the wonderful work of Christ.
There is always as much as your faith and hope
in the wonderful work of Christ.Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-31656855538647984752013-06-13T10:10:00.002-05:002013-06-13T10:11:31.133-05:00IsaacI sn't it amazing?
S ay it is. It's so
A bsolutely amazing,
A boy of mine to hold.
C an you believe he's here?
It's Isaac, my dear.Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-77800473558695888572013-06-13T10:08:00.004-05:002015-09-07T00:50:34.231-05:00Silly Song with OllieDown by the lake on the willow tree swinging like monkeys in the Summer breeze. Take a running leap and up we go, off from the tree down to the lake below. Swim like fishes by the lake-ee shore,take a deep breath and down we go to the bottom where the clams do showus treasures in their shells in the lake below.
Push off the bottom of the lake floor. Just before the top. And, we sneak Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-59670615955040676452013-02-07T02:00:00.000-06:002015-09-07T00:52:19.356-05:00On Ownership and GuiltWhen the moonshine's as bright
as it'll get for the bright-eyed
young man's fumbling
fingers to stumbling
on up a younger one's
quivering, crumbling,
deeply asundered
Innocence,
what then?
Is it you or was it me,
was it Adam, was it Eve,
or the devil in a snake,
coiled up in poisoned hate,
maybe Alpha and Omega
bent on giving freedom
to Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-43732045078356660922013-02-07T00:46:00.002-06:002015-09-07T01:34:33.485-05:00On Treacherously Keeping It In.
Does he love you tonight?
Did it keep you up until tomorrow?
How do you keep it all together, Babe,
counting all those damned, dead sparrows
by yourself?
You're by yourself, now. And you'll always be alonethere, thereby yourself.
You got your angerin the whitest little flame,the color of your ghostly, gauntly, ghastly,
cowardly little game
there by yourself.
...
Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-67624065271254061492011-11-21T06:54:00.020-06:002015-08-16T05:20:52.804-05:00a smoke in march with the boysIn that space amid brothers' candlelit conversation
intermittent with dark, Irish thirst...
Better than blankets! --We were wrapped into warm thoughts.
We sat with the lion of March,
His toothy grin in ours pressed into the bits of pipes,
ALIVE as the scratched matchsticks roaring
to the deep encouragement of bourbon-soaked cherries.
A thin, yellow wisp of sulfur appeared forRileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-84716201685013385872011-10-21T10:35:00.001-05:002015-09-07T02:12:52.289-05:00Part of a Whole
I am a part of a whole;Adam, he purchased my soulto the hell that I amfrom his sin that began Deathand grew
from federal father. That manbeget, like leaven, a man;and, onward and ever,the race rose and deliveredus damned.
I, black as the darkest of nights,loving the darkness... a Light!--Your Spirit shown into my innermost being.And, I knewI would never be free;a part of the whole guilty Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-35700312591235778922009-02-18T15:51:00.004-06:002009-04-05T01:27:37.374-05:00On understanding implosion, Letter to a friendMore or less I understandyour mouth so mighty and handsome:In the arms of a shorn haired Samson.In Timnah riddled in robes of the southand that rotting lion's yawning mouth,whose welling eyes and welling crotch,will welling, putrid air be lostto burst of hide and hive explodeto swarm of needles, teeth. And blood,in blushed mist of rising souls,steaming streams departing, rosefor an honor coldas Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-89887547779558955972009-02-18T15:33:00.004-06:002011-10-23T21:03:18.416-05:00Letter to a Friend, ImplosionMore or less I understandyour mouth, so-mighty and handsome:in the arms of the shorn hair of Samson;In Timnah riddled in robes of the south,and that rotting lion's yawning mouthwhose welling eyes and welling crotch,will welling, putrid air be lostto burst of hide and swarm like soulsdeflated in their moldsspilt forth, and drank in wet and rankdeath like thesein Ashkelon of Philistines;full of Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-89774659743067714422009-02-15T15:54:00.006-06:002011-10-23T21:06:08.938-05:00Refinement, Part 1[with fire fire burning grand]I do not pretend to comprehendthe gleaming graciousness at handthat in refinement takes a brandof ore, so brandished blandand blackened in its vein,plucks it from its soiled land,reduces it to comprehendnothing but its filthy standin fire fire burning grand,mercy but a thought rescindto Scorious slag it is (I am).And whenunraveling strand from strandelemental sin Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-53339501831417121942009-02-12T11:18:00.003-06:002010-04-09T14:08:13.701-05:00EphesiansOutstretched, wounded,span hung and pounded,yet reaching, resoundedthrough commonwealth astoundedand the Gentiles allow-ed.Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-51614150525843587742008-08-21T14:16:00.003-05:002010-04-09T14:09:50.940-05:00MonstersWait, there are monsters there. They’ll cut into your heart and pull out all your insides in the dark. They aren’t sorry there. They don’t know the word.If I were you, I’d be pretty scared to be where you’re going,to know what you’ve known,to flip that switch and bed down.Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-81613484364165121732008-08-07T16:09:00.011-05:002011-10-23T21:08:43.632-05:00On understanding letting goYou grant life to the seed,coax unraveling buds to their needof eruption from stems,loose and untie the pregnant hemsof blossoms, seeds, polleneous pits;whose wide mouths are rapt,with any number of petaled lips,screaming until blushed unto Heaven-highwith pink hands raised out far as death is nighto the Spring until Winter through that Fall which will liethem lost to their seasonand I, lost.Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-17640688745123536922008-08-07T10:37:00.008-05:002010-04-09T14:15:12.301-05:00Talky talkySay you're deep like ocean,wet me like the sea;but I've been so damn thirsty lately.Please, talk to me.A little drip in the desert, Honey;Soul's chapped and dry.I don't want to die,and time ain't on our side.Just talk to me.They say love is a current,a channel changing with the tide;say that sun and moon's a steady circlethrough the lows and highs.But I don't care what they say, Lover;you said Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-76498349278351807302008-07-28T01:21:00.003-05:002018-08-10T21:35:12.646-05:00Forgiveness SongI'm a lost son of God on my way back home;
Gonna carry my burden when I'm young till I'm old;
And hold on tight to what it is that I own
—I'm a fool.
Gonna lie in wait in the crefts of the rock
For the devil to see me, for the devil to stop;
For that old serpant to speak what he talks,
I'm a fool.
Gonna run on off like a scaredy cat
Screaming, Father, Father; Oh, Daddy Dad.
Please tackle the Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-53003392731804638252008-07-27T00:26:00.008-05:002010-04-09T14:17:03.748-05:00the boring and the miraculous<!--StartFragment--> Things are waning, lady;Young and yet you're hoaring; baby,The angels take to soaring; lately Flying seems a little less than Miraculous. You worry I could leave Like it’s ocean burnt and drowned trees; When you’re using all you’re energy To close. Leaving ain’t so Miraculous. We've always said The first step in doing Something is to do it. Step on outRileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760055593535494501.post-91647679697143902882008-07-17T11:54:00.009-05:002010-04-09T14:17:23.047-05:00=)I see an image of a scene, millions strong, but I am in it and so can only see perhaps a thousand around me. I don't see any faces, only our actions, one action. Our mouths are open, rapt in praise and singing in one direction. From each of our mouths a stream is going forth and depending on the slight positioning of our aim toward the source, with a slouching hip or pigeon toe to the left or Rileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13255105004612616691noreply@blogger.com0