A Contrast of Colas

Altor est Clarior non Melior
[Clearly the better of two]
~A Contrast of Colas~

One, being sweet honey from the Promised Land,
The other, sandy stale manna from before we got there.
The first is a gentle melody with soft echo,
The second is nails on a chalkboard in my mouth.
The former having a perfect record all across,
The latter having a horrible history of drugs.

To be clear, this poem is in support of Pepsi! It is a funny little poem I wrote in support of one of the few brand names I enjoy frequently enough to support.

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Once Upon A Star

Falter not thy frigid star, thine radiance hardly seen.
Beseech the skies, lo! Hold nothing back
Release the northern tempest!
Yet, waft softly star, thine structure frail
And presence here still needed.
Select for yourself a host thousands strong,
Stretched far across the sky,
In varied sequence send forth your stars,
Streaking to their destination.
May the Arctic declare its battle cry,
Sweeping the landscape clean.
Yea, tread carefully gentle ice,
thine rigid blades soon shudder.
Hark and lo! In mighty flow,
See I much snow in its crystal glow!
Dear frigid star, join thine host,
Thine brethren. 
A long life be thine,
May my thanks reach thine ear
And thine’s brethren’s icy flakes.
Created in 2010.

Ode to the Tissue

Ode to the [Fallen] Tissue
Oh what fine linen wretchedly discarded by fools,
Defiled by contact with unholy ground,
Its potential not yet even actualized!
Both grievance and restitution must I bear;
With pure valleys tucked beneath itself
Beneath smooth mounds of snowy fluff.
Like the feathery touch of a fallen flower petal.
Useful as a Swiss army knife.
Gentle like my grandma.
Wispy as a jellyfish.
Fragile like the last leaf of autumn.
Forgotten as a novel read only once in sophomore English class.
Remove your sandals for you are walking on sacred ground in its presence,
And neigh forget to revere its sacrificial martyrdom
When you actualize its designed potential.
 
Created in 2005.

Even a Storm Must Bow

The clouds lunged bony limbs upon the earth, grasping with ethereal digits, blinding with ecstatic energy.  At each lunge neighboring clouds thundered in applause.

In a similar hurry, the air lashed and shoved its way past any obstacle in attempt to reach some urgent magnet of distant winds.

A pouring of water, like slaps in the face, insisted on its right to travel, cascading over all.

In the hubris of the three, they clashed in mid-air, frightening the boulders and trees.  The entire landscape bowed in submission to the storm.  Only the sturdiest parts of creation dared to defy the elements with confidence.

When such weather rushes by, know you are not among the sturdiest parts of creation; rather, Immanuel, cornerstone of the Kingdom’s foundation, defined sturdy.  Only on this secure footing can one defy the elements with confidence. 

The waters may splash, but can only recede against this elevated shore.  The winds may howl as a score of hounds, but can offer minimal resistance against such a palisade.  The looming clouds are but a vapor in His tea, shattered by a breath.

 
Created in 2011.

Enabler

Deep, deep down inside is a power all of us has.
Spirit led we are conformed in our minds, refined, un-confined,
Led to do, led to go, led to find our path defined.
In free will following life’s allure, we are free for feu paux,
Allocated to no one’s desire, open to with one’s self conspire.
We’re enabled in joy, in peace, in comfort,
We’re enabled in anger, in sorrow, in spite,
We’re enabled to complete what we’re able, defeat what we’re not,
Teach what we know, learn from what we don’t.
Enabled to no longer remain defunct within
the swirling masses of common discombobulation.
This is what our Father has given us for life,
This is what enables us for both gracefulness and for strife.

 
Created in 2005.

Compulsive Taste

Teeth bearing, instinct snaring,
My fingers the victims of habit.
I have made myself a martyr,
Filleted of my flesh, Drained of my blood.
Subjected to such fate since childhood’s birth,
An organic nail shearer am I.
Might as well devour mine own hand,
Than meekly nibbling the rest of my days.
No cure! No cure, to banish this beast,
This atrocious monster in me.

This is a poem for those who have a tendency to bite their nails. Created in 2006.