Month: November 2019

Predation in Patmos: Corruption in the Church (continued)

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AS SOME READERS WILL KNOW, I recently visited the Isle of Patmos on a kind of spiritual pilgrimage. I was, in a sense, returning to ‘the source’ of the Book of Revelation — the climactic book of the Bible. It was written in a cave there more than 1900 years ago, and has been a powerful influence in my life as I’ve studied it for more than three decades. So I went there with a feeling of great trepidation with the full expectation of some revelations of my own. I have been seeking guidance on the next phase of my life and this trip was all part of that process. But my resulting epiphanies have been very different from that which I expected or hoped for. This has subsequently led me to wade into some waters of soul-searching that go deeper than I have done for some time. Read the rest of this entry »

Portal in the Wall [poem]

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Peter Tillberg

They wanted me to be an arms manufacturer
from when I was just small and made of dough
which everybody thought they had a right
to mould into the image of their choice
(regardless of whatever I may voice or protest
with my body, mind or soul). “You don’t compete Read the rest of this entry »

A Hint of Fall [poem]

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the nights are drawing in
as cyclamen, galanthus
bow down to the earth in seed
across my inner landscape’s
multichromely tinted vale
and every bleed i’ve ever bled
conceals and uncongeals itself
from autumn’s golden smirk
and i’m undone Read the rest of this entry »

A Exercise in Time [poem]

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Melting Clock

We fence so much within our puny minds
and think we’re free. All of us are guilty
of this crime. Both you and me.
So let’s experiment — see where things will go.
Unless we try things out for real
we’ll  n e v e r   t r u l y  know. Read the rest of this entry »

Sonnet to the Face of Deep

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I see a face and think “Is this a mask?
Has clarity been stolen from those eyes?”
These are the questions which I’m forced to ask
when I’m confronted with a poor disguise. Read the rest of this entry »

Passion of the Poet [poem]

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Forgive me for my passion (but only if you can).
It seems the words which tumble from my lips
are not much heard from mouthings of a man.
Expressions vivid, steeped in deepsome song
and poetised with all delights for which I long.
That may not dovetail with one’s preconceived Read the rest of this entry »

Sonnet for Borrowed Time

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trust (1)

Like Autumn leaves, we live on borrowed time
before the parched and brownly breeze-dried branch
becomes a lifeless dusty paradigm,
when our molecules dissolve [avalanche]. Read the rest of this entry »