Winsome Remembrances for Jack

Winsome Remembrances for Jack

 

 

Beggar to tell me he wrote what he wanted,

Is the life of this bard  his wrestling recanted?

I cry for the bones of our culture decanted,

The essence a poison that perfume supplanted.

He savored and suckled from his Angel of Light,

And he wrote to the spirits that all of us fight,

A testament for children to share in his plight,

That we could in the long run, escape from the night.

He traveled on wheels rolling over Turtle Island,

And captured wild people to join in his band,

He wrote of their stories and the fires they fanned,

As they searched for their raptures from Eternity’s sand.

He remembered it in detail but changed it around,

To suit the story and the way it would sound,

He heeded a calling to re-work what he found,

To make gods of mortals in the truths that he bound.

He failed to release us in the way that he wanted,

For the devils he fought are forever undaunted,

By breaking his happiness in the way that they taunted,

He drank away life that he always had flaunted.

The bard and his affairs often rule what we say,

When the publisher and the Mason at the end of the day,

Have cooked and conjured an illusion of God’s way

By selling out dollars on the computers we play.

We live in a hologram of memories and fiction,

Sharpened and and made real by the poet's own diction,

Whether Jack said it or not is beyond the depiction

As long as the spell keeps the same predilection.

It’s our turn now to express how we should be,

To challenge the madness that drowns sanity,

We learned from our teachers to speak candidly,

And make a mark on the Beast that is easy to see.

It’s a dark age upon us, we must be careful to try,

To capture our vision including the way we will die,

For the devils of this realm have no conscience to ply,

As they pattern the planet with our echoes that fly.

So with paper and pen and a long distant smile,

We wrestle the demons who have trapped us with
 guile,

Inventing a new platform from which we can dial,

Alternative visions to present in life’s trial.

The momentum of chaos that is coming this way,

Cannot be talked out by the avalanche fray,

What is readied in vision will probably stay,

Above the flood of confusion in the magic we play.