God Is Not Dead

Words quietly spoken
Words floating in the night
Billowing halo warped wrap around
words spoken quietly
God is dead
God is dead
- Faith is a belief not based on proof 
Faith is a tapestry silk and satin 
weaving through 
heart into soul
head into heart
Not tangible to touch
but a magical sensation 
weaving through heart into spirit
Rattling about so stable so very unshakable
- unbreakable  
Questionable in my dreams
Rattling about broken at times
Rosary beads slip from my hands
I sink to bended knee
unlike other faiths standing on equal ground
I sink to bended knee humbled
Questionable in my dreams
I woke wrapped in a cloud
wrapped in billowing halo warped wrap around
I said the words
I spoke out loud 
God is not dead 
God is not dead 
I said softly words whispered 
in the darkness of the night 
Words heard echoing bounce
Words spoken tongue tied
yet understood Tower of Babble
There is wisdom in the story
There is peace and confidence 
in the questioning of my faith 
My lack of belief has been 
a distant abstraction 
My lack of faith has been
at times a painful reaction
But in this fog hovering in the night
I was solid 
I was touched
I said it out loud
God is not dead 
God is not dead
I lay back falling into a deep sleep
wrapped in a cloud I began to weep 
And as the sails began to fill
and move slowly across the bay
I remembered the story
of choice and free will -

The vision brought tears to my heart
tears to my eyes and I cried at the image 
and the knowledge
I am wisdom
I am wise 
God is not dead
God is not dead

The vision brought tears to my heart
tears to my eyes and I cried at the image
and the knowledge
I am wisdom
I am wise
God is not dead
God is not dead

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Same Old Same Old

Stumbling down the road 
I don't waste time looking back 
But the past is like a dog 
with an unforgettable bone 
...just wont give it up 
or let it go 
And not that any 
of it matters 
They say I am 
where I'm supposed to be;
according to the universe, 
biorhythms and time charts, 
even the tide flow 
So if all of that is true;
set in some kind of 
cosmic stone 
here on borrowed time
here on loan
Why do my shoes 
feel too tight 
and my close don't 
fit quite right 
and I'm uncomfortable 
in my own skin 
Why can't I sit back, relax 
and just breathe it all in 
Is this the way 
the story goes 
Some unsettled 
some untold 
But I always have a sense 
I have a lot more to say 
and nothing ever feels the same 
in a same old kind of way
Nothing ever feels the same
in a same old kind of way 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Free Wheeling

I don't know man 
I'm drifting around 
kind of blurry eyed 
and every time 
I think I've got it right
- every time I think 
there is a turning of the tide 
some asshole steps up 
and shines a bright light 
on all my hiding places 
And I am not sure 
if anyone cares 
and that little care-less 
nonchalant mention 
goes a long way 
when all that flies by 
in the middle of the night 
are distant sirens 
from someone else's 
- tragedy
And isn't that 
the American way 
Isn't that 
what we were taught 
Isn't that 
the common thread 
that ties us all together
- linked by a common thread 
or blood line 
never drawn 
- in the sand 
last breath 
or taking a stand
And you never 
have to acknowledge 
my existence 
...you never 
have to acknowledge 
my existence
simply because 
I believe 
I have been 
free wheeling ...my life away 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Saving Grace

There is a time 
and place 
for everything
And when 
there is a cold rain 
falling 
dragging me down 
bringing me down 
comfort zone 
sanctuary 
I stand alone
 - Saving Grace
Off in the distance 
my sins are being 
washed away 
On my knees 
praying to - someone 
for relief 
and who can tell 
when there is 
nothing left 
or worthy 
of the next exhale 
or depth 
of the next breath 
Who will throw 
the first stone 
or have it all
for Heaven sake
 - Saving Grace 
There is a time 
and place 
for everything
And when 
there is a cold rain 
falling 
dragging me down 
bringing me down 
comfort zone 
sanctuary 
I stand alone 
 - Saving Grace

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Self

Flickering flash light 
sparkling florescent glitter 
weaving shadowy reflections 
and sounds vibrating  - 

Imagine: tiny poetic dancers  
movements fluttering on stucco walls 
texture rubs the senses with twirling 
drips of a grand illusion 
fan fare and flags waving...
with no peaceful conclusion -

Yet the heart continues to pose 
question after question 
without clarity - the illusive peace of mind 
the illusive state of being 
in alignment with ones Self - or another-s...Self 

The solidarity of peace and being
continually alludes someone like me 
with fear of the faithless cautionary guide
skipping stones across a vast ocean
from here to there a safe haven ... is too far to see

Reflection is an action
examining all the pages 
our own personal story book -
like pop up characters 
they willingly unfold
page one, two so on...and on and on
we reluctantly savor a perspective look...
While some images are  to difficult to hold
or look squarely head on...eyes close

Drawing on the powers that be
drawing on some ancestral Euro strength 
a Pandora's box within you and me
drawing on rumored reputation 
east coast tough guy fact
lands solidly scuffed knees
hands of a beggar ...fingers entwined Gods final act

Pulling images and memories 
are bricks in the foundation
the foundation of ones own being
Self...posing the questions, 
holding the answers
revealing more 
always concealing less
casting light into the darkness
un-ringing the proverbial bell
changing the lines drawn in the sand 
a distant voice 
speaking clearly 
decoded words of knowledge
a fine line between fate 
and freedom of choice

...freedom of choice 

© 2014 TrilbyYates

 

Delicately Choreographed Dance

By the end 
of this 
dream life
as we 
glide 
or stumble
from path 
to journey
road block 
or stepping stone
not a macabre 
scheme
in the moment 
unaware
of the transformation 
the information
the lack of overload
double-fisted  
hands of fate 
stride in 
never tipping 
"its" intention
knowing full well
ignorance 
is not a defense 
in the land 
of the law
the freedom
of choice
the unwritten 
page in our 
personal stories...
but is a gift 
from God
at times 
and others 
a curse
you my friend
though you try
I'm sure...
between word 
and song
sip of wine 
catch yourself
letting go
drifting off
across the sound 
can not forget
may not recall 
my name
...out loud 
in an awkward
moment
or
the deepest
color of my eyes
transparent brown
but you will 
in that place
held close 
to the vest
where the heart
protects 
Pandora's box
...we've come to call
dare not open 
except 
on precious occasion
in the privacy 
of your own 
desire 
for a tender 
moment
interlude
set of circumstance
caesura
the harmony 
that was shared
within a breath 
between 
two people 
on a path
that intersected 
not so long ago 
will not
be denied...

We are not frozen
isolated in a prism 
variegation
memories sojourn
we are a 
delicately 
choreographed dance... 

© 2013 Trilby  

Not Forgotten

Those days of laughter,
shared smiles,
a nod of knowing...
they aren't over yet 
are they?

Inquisitive questions
innocently posed in a way 
that only the high 
and mighty 
could possibly answer...

And when the heart 
feels even the slightest 
bit of anticipation  -
like a dove taking flight
...peaceful wings span,
joy and exhilaration 
occur when all is not lost 
or forgotten -

Resilience comes 
in many shades of blue,
profoundly humming
that loving tune...

The heart does not forget!

But, will fate step in?
...and as old tales are told 
like a wandering shepherd
searching from dusk til dawn
I could remain lost
forever alone...

When truly all I want 
is to feel the wind 
on my face - 
Feel the sand beneath 
my feet - 
Hear the sound of each note 
played -
Reach for your hand 
in the darkest of night 
and know...

We are not forgotten ~

Even if forbidden 
in a world of the faithful 
living faithless lives.

My choice 
to remain alone 
rather than settle 
for companionship.

To wait for
love so bold,
love that carries joy 
tenderly in each word 
volumes yet to be written 
in the deepest part 
of my soul worn and weary 
I continue to hold 
an open space for you -  

© 2013 Trilby 

Glowing In The Wind

Looking away 
from the coast 
line drawn 
in the sand 
off in the distance 
flat beat 
of another song 
leaves me 
breathless 
hope 
is an addiction 
that bleeds 
ambivalence remains 
with choices made 
walk away 
or glide 
fly high 
or dig in 
depth of despair 
is a drag
old wounds 
don't heal 
they just gradually 
fade away 
when the time 
is right 
unstructured texture 
colors glisten
and life
is no longer
a candle
glowing in the wind... 

© 2013 Trilby

4th of July 2011

Fisherman's Walk

All the battles
that rage around us
hands of the clock
never stop and we
step forward
with the hope and promise
that what we believe
to be true
is coming from a higher power
and not just the back pocket
of some man with a plan
and a fetish for fame and fortune –
or what ever else is twisted
around our fate.
We walk the walk
and talk the talk
bury our children
from generation
to generation
draped in a flag
of one nation under God –
while we praise and hail Mary
giving us the power of choice.
For whom the bell tolls
is a question we won’t ask
because it cannot be un-rung
each name is etched in stone.
And Einstein said,
“…insanity is doing the same thing
over and over expecting different results…”

Do you feel free yet?


© 2011 Trilby Yates