The personal site of Scott Killen (Just some guy™)
Be very wary of people who use the word fair. Fair is subjective, and everyone assigns it a different meaning. It is almost a certainty that the person using the word and the person hearing the word have defined it differently. When leaders and politicians use the word ‘fair’, it is a cheat because it always generates a pleasant idea in the listener’s mind without requiring any specific commitment…
Disclaimer: This poem was previously published at Medium on July 31, 2019. → My rusting chains enslave me. i am beaten with the rigors of life. i am auctioned on the block. An ode to gold and silver is my dirge. No one pays the Price on my head. There is only one end- i am nothing except to be used and tossed away. The Son offers his shoulder. i dig a tomb in my burdens. Hope’s dark fuse lies cold…
Morning mist whispers waiting for dawn, gather together in earnest. Birds sing sparsely, tuning instruments, awaiting Conductor’s cues. Solemn trees bestir, rousing from slumber, uprooting forest dreams. Flowers turn, seeking truth, searching for life renewed. Apropos Sun emerges from shadow, ringing joy’s bell, new day begins brighter still.
Frantic hungry wolf— maniacally counting yet getting no sleep. (a haiku )
Break me. Put me on my knees, where I can find that life is not about me. Break me. Show me that life can suffer a bruising and get back up. Break me. Mold me into the sculpture I can be from the lump I am. Break me. Show me the beauty of friendship, hands grasping mine, pulling me up. Break me. Let me grow beyond the shell of myself, rising to heights unseen.
I sit beneath Your radiance, oblivious to life except where the shadows end. You light my path, the sun dead by comparison. My feet find purchase. I remember the darkness, life before You, the vestigial wisp of night. I am warm. My soul fills itself with Your refulgent song. Love, the abiding tree basks in Your glow, full of healing fruit that is ever ripe. The moon dances with the sun circling in…