Art and Earth

Because earth Without Art is Just "Eh."

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4 notes &


CANTARE PATER NOSTER (Chant Poem by Doug Westberg)

Father, you will die before the autumn leaves
Agnus Dei, nobis miserere
Leaving your beloved son behind to grieve
Agnus Dei, dona me vivere
Visiting is like attending Latin Mass
Agnus Dei, nobis miserere
Talking through a foot-thick window of stained glass
Agnus Dei, dona me vivere
Body wasted, bobble-headed, failing heart
Agnus Dei, nobis miserere
Trying to connect, not knowing where to start
Agnus Dei, dona me vivere
Too late to obtain the truth I really want
Agnus Dei, nobis miserere
Rage has finally faded to bewilderment
Agnus Dei, dona me vivere
Too late to explain the broken collarbone
Agnus Dei, nobis miserere
Falling off the bed or an abusive home?
Agnus Dei, dona me vivere
All those childhood races to Emergency
Agnus Dei, nobis miserere
Covered up and Mother sworn to secrecy
Agnus Dei, dona me vivere
Hitch your tortured soul on a robotic God
Agnus Dei, nobis miserere
Wield an iron fist and never spare the rod
Agnus Dei, dona me vivere
You think sacraments ensure your being saved
Agnus Dei, nobis miserere
Even if you take your secrets to the grave
Agnus Dei, dona me vivere
I’ll be left to wonder how it might have been
Agnus Dei, nobis miserere
Left behind to fear your ghost and wear your skin
Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

****************************************************************************************************************************
Copyright 2013 by Doug Westberg, author of The Depressed Guy’s Book of Wisdom.
Image: Octavio Ocampo
(Cantare Pater Noster = Chant ‘Our Father’.  Agnus Dei = Lamb of God.
Nobis miserere = have mercy on us. Dona me vivere = grant that I live.)

CANTARE PATER NOSTER (Chant Poem by Doug Westberg)


Father, you will die before the autumn leaves

Agnus Dei, nobis miserere

Leaving your beloved son behind to grieve

Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

Visiting is like attending Latin Mass

Agnus Dei, nobis miserere

Talking through a foot-thick window of stained glass

Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

Body wasted, bobble-headed, failing heart

Agnus Dei, nobis miserere

Trying to connect, not knowing where to start

Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

Too late to obtain the truth I really want

Agnus Dei, nobis miserere

Rage has finally faded to bewilderment

Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

Too late to explain the broken collarbone

Agnus Dei, nobis miserere

Falling off the bed or an abusive home?

Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

All those childhood races to Emergency

Agnus Dei, nobis miserere

Covered up and Mother sworn to secrecy

Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

Hitch your tortured soul on a robotic God

Agnus Dei, nobis miserere

Wield an iron fist and never spare the rod

Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

You think sacraments ensure your being saved

Agnus Dei, nobis miserere

Even if you take your secrets to the grave

Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

I’ll be left to wonder how it might have been

Agnus Dei, nobis miserere

Left behind to fear your ghost and wear your skin

Agnus Dei, dona me vivere

****************************************************************************************************************************

Copyright 2013 by Doug Westberg, author of The Depressed Guy’s Book of Wisdom.

Image: Octavio Ocampo

(Cantare Pater Noster = Chant ‘Our Father’.  Agnus Dei Lamb of God.

Nobis miserere = have mercy on us. Dona me vivere = grant that I live.)

Filed under poem poems poetry lit religion church easter abuse recovery fathers sons our father catholic catholic church

4 notes &

Inside Old Man Rattler by Selene Skye

image

When I am old

it will be okay for me to talk to old man snake

out in the sun

up the spine of Canyon de Chelly

I will be beveled like stained glass

with sunshine in my veins

and sand underneath my fingernails

When I have the luxury of being gray

and bent over the mesa in my many skirts

it will be okay for me to be crazy

and tell the stories

about the rattler who fell in love with me

when I was a young woman

He was old and lonely

tired of coiling around rocks

and I came with bruises on my lips

and cherries in my little apron

our from the hogan

where eagle sat drying his drunken youth into an aging man’s 

dying liver

Jack Daniels dripping down his fingertips

with my blood

Old Man Rattler loved my youth

he came to eat the cherries from my palm

and pull me into the shadow of his rock from the burning Arizona 

sun

he coiled me into his dreams

shifting me across a thousand miles of sand and mesas on sleek

belly

and scales

he kissed me a thousand times

deep inside my heart from the cold desert night

we watched the stars

and he dreamed of being human again

and knocking the hell out of the jackal for this bad joke of a forked 

tongue

and unhinged jaw

and I dreamed myself into the stars

out of the blood taste in my mouth

and the bruised taste on my soul

When I am an old woman

it will be okay for me to talk to rattlesnakes

and to find the rock

in canyon De Chelly

for my bones

but for now

I cannot talk to snakes

and my manicure must be perfect

and my hair must hide the silk strand of white at the temples

with gold

But one day I will be old

and I will be happy

in my big skirts

and my wrinkled skin

rattling bones

image

*********************************************************************************************

Copyright 2012 by Victoria Selene Skye-Deme; Images: The Nude Snake Charmer by Paul Desiré Trouillebert circa 1880; Detail of Snake Women by Boris Vallejo.

Filed under selene skye desert rattlenakes poems poem poets surreal age women abuse healing lit illustrated poems