“The Owl of Minerva Rises Late”

“The owl of Minerva rises late, always late…
Please understand when I see I have been all used up and can give no more. Understand your happiness in my demise.
Smile a mimicry of the Morning Sun just before telling God you and your gang are much greater than the Creator.
Yeah, gather self confidence as I pray and meditate hour
upon hour working to save my soul, to pray for those who are still Sleeping and for those who still seek to pull
more spring water from this busted thing I call “I”.
So what are you in the grande design, molecules are bound
by God not your unholy fist shaking at me
when I say No, I can give no more in this loving family
of families in the Faith, but please do misunderstand
and damn me, call me names, till your teeth shatter,
trembling with anger that I must have what is left of me.
I have wasted my time, I have damned myself
So dig a man who speaks and hands over the ammunition,
I make it easy to be conned and taken advantage of: me.
Here I am in my vulnerable hour, take it, call me names
what are you going to do about this shameful, disgrace,
this erratic being who decided upon waking from praying
to live in imitation of Christ and I see the good old
dark armies of Mara, the curse whispering dark angels
are busy today, so pause, look into your own mirror’,
I thought my heart hardened enough not to care
but I do, I care, I love, I long for conversations where the t
Of the other Speaks words that are real and the neuromancer stands ready to stay or go. it’s all up to the general you not you “you”, just a parish, a family of souls, THE family
of souls where I look and know for whom to pray mercy,
I am no longer worthy and am just here for I
can be used for and nothing else,
and how much of anything is worth
fighting for (everything) to hold onto existence and to serve and pray.
Time sharing God is precious. Words have existence.
Please, anyone want to knock me down when I have nothing
More I wish to argue with your mirror and you?
Find more wrong with me Just go for it. Lash away.
Have fun. Keep score. Cheer on when my name is called
I can give no more. I myself have been turned into a beggar.
Want something of me, want to wave a cruel sword,
you know I will remain silent. I will not fight religions.
I will not fight what I do not understand.
The hard the prayer, the work,
to keep my vows to do no harm,
to seek peace and the love our lord gave us. Yeah.
This very thing so many on their “high horse”
or horse high just have a blast swinging the gun butts
against my torso and neck, thank you.
Thank you for teaching the margins is where I ought to stay,
I just ain’t made for these absent souled, I am broken.
I give up. Do what you will. Say what you will,
just have a blast breaking the 1st and 11th Commandments,
and don’t forget the one about gossips and lies.
Lay it on me. Tell me I owe when nothing is shared.
Let me hear how wrong I’ve always been.
I am done. I give up. No Mas, No Mas.
Knowing one’s place in the world and understanding
I am NOT to write nor compose anything at all anymore
because the money ain’t there, it is all vanity
this soul I was given, just a waste of flesh when
so many need so much more than I.
Probably should have left 34 years ago.
Death or sobriety that fateful hellish day,
I confess it all, whatever is wished. The Trinity.
I am an empty well. Don’t ask. I am pretty sick
of hearing how all that’s bad with me. Heard it before.
Just saying. Not asking, I am telling.
I am broken, ugly, old and ruined.
The spiders are busy spinning webs and beds
around my heart, eating my gall bladder,
Hardening me up again to silence.and desire.
I am better there. Sing to God and no one complains.
Read aloud alone from daily Mass.
You, the universal unidentifiable ‘you’ who
treasures in one night love languages open heart.
Then the next never relate, words without definitions.
Never rest in tearing me down knowing when I
rose to be with people again all I wanted was
honesty, peace, love and peace, close bonds
formed my dream. Heard in conversations on The Faith,
In my false hope that Love can be known.
I am.. It’s cool. Dig the silence and desire.
Happier there for sure. Just hate having to do it.
All is better for it. Say what one wishes.
I call Peace. I call Compassion. I hope it answers.
We ought to love one another second above all else.
Thank you Pope Francis. Let the adult children bicker.
You are an inspiration. Turn from evil and do no harm.
Turn from evil and do no harm. Do not gossip. Do not lie.
How hard is that? How hard is it to be what one seems?
Silence and desire. I’ll take both, please.

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