Old Testament

The barren world collapsed inside its anvil
Sparks of black smiths fires never flared
Japanese military swords were deadly
sticks and stones and jade never grew
or porcelain made of silken worms.


2.

Subtle and suave the architect gropes the conch.
He allows the pause to open what was closed before
the earth had no ocean to flood the plains and
wet that blue-black smoke from ardent fires
revised the largesse of sharks and idol Kings
fornicating on command of banishment.

Winter came too soon. Lights never flicker.
Details like cities never grew. Hell lasted
longer the rules of Popes and Luther.--
Mohammad was a late riser never born.

Mammon never came to fall when
revelation waned and retribution
was not a pause or even grunt
of sexual slams and dips,
reviving Moliere's wit,
the underdog of human bones
barely seen in skeleton
of newts and frogs remained
darker eyes and suddenly
the snicker of a broken snake
appeared not as demons
but hunger that old fable
had writ to end and remain
with love to perform
that raw release of darling
huffs and puffs in an empty
world without one hand alive
to form that revised despair
sometimes we live too short
to know the full plan
that architect devised when
he opened light to comets
arranged like Xmass ornaments
on living uncut pine growing
no where as nothing claims
the bitter strings of love
are lost with chump change
scattered with the corpse
on bare primeval terra
so in love with never been
before the barren clock
accomplished ring or rang
when space itself collapsed.


3.
The Book of Revelation

Earth decided the time had come to start
the spark to retrieve the dark from Hell--
nothing empty left. Atmosphere made
blue like chalk drawn on sidewalk by
children driving skates and wagons
across the country as the landscape
shifted without care, as mind became
the ledger and accountants ruled.

Summer resumed in heat and fire
Steel made and trains were late
at the station. War called brother
drifted cross the West Point Plains
down the sadder Hudson River
longing for the dry channel
and nothing mattered at all.
No one cares when Draft
riots and hopeless women
bared their cat or sucked
the Dicks of hotel keepers
watching baseball follow form
to settle Yankee escape
from Ebbets Field come
the 40th day of September.

Mammon lived of course.
Nothing said or done
had changed. Words lived
in the eternal flame born
on a hilltop to mourn
President and Nation.
Words expand; contract like
plates of earth drawn to
witness that squeeze of
arms when humans come
to fall and rise again
in fertile soup, one small
amino charge defiled
the laws against life

We are imperfect rules
and perfect plans fouled.

The architect sleeps tonight
and wakes to another sun
where episodes repeat forever
the Television show is wrong.

We are despite the ruse of false
modesty a species left to bring
the model of the human heart
its soul, the brain of ecstasy
my love sweet pink Conch
this April storm revealed
my life again to song.



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My poetry and fiction can be read at the following web sites:

http://seanfarragher.com

http://byzantium2001.com

http://taximurders.com