Words felt

Quite beautiful, the lights, Scintillating through and through Magnifying the joy within Simplifying those words I would have said, Quite beautiful, your dress, Reflecting by and by, An even greater beauty deep within, Unparalleled beauty, Inspiring these words I now write.                                               James Kaluna

Ooh the waves are not like my Father He that stands as He stood  He that is as He was He is not tossed by the wind  He is not brought back and forth No interchangeability is known to Him For His promise is true That He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow  I do not doubt.                                               James Kaluna

In pursuit of greatness many have fallen, But only from a high place can one fall, And if falling be death, And I be agreeable to death So be it then  That I should live,  And in living fly to greatness So when it cometh that I should fall My fall hath be memorable.                                          James Kaluna

They stand solitary along the paths, waiting. I deem them patient and humane in this course. Their upper parts are wide and welcoming. As I watch hands unfeelingly plunge objects into them, I am tempted to search their feeling. They are places to dump waste; things that no longer matter. How awful they must feel to be a collection of the detestable, the rejected and the dejected.                                                James Kaluna

Of fire exits and extinguishers I had never seen the signs on the doors before I had never thought of them as ‘Fire Exits’  They were merely exits, and entries of course But now that they put the signs up, I’m terrified there’s going to be a fire For the signs warn of something that might happen...possibilities; The man thereof seems to me a prescient image of myself running. I had always thought of the extinguishers as toys Whenever I’d get time in the evening  I’d pick on one of them and release its roar into the empty space But now that the man seeks to ascertain their working, Their roars sound like cries against fire in my head Their redness of color reminds me of danger. “It’s just a safety measure.” “Where would the fire arise from?” ‘’We’ll start it ourselves!” Now I’m terrified of myself.                                        ...

Street boys I, wending homewards today,  Saw a reluctance to breathe in their faces As if each breath was a sting, As if each passing minute immured receipt of deserved repose; Repose from the world that didn’t seem to care; Repose from the shadows that were by the hour lengthening, And thus confirming their eccentric fate, To spend the frigid night outside doors that are with finality  Closed on them.                                         James Kaluna

Remember   Remember then when you invited us to your gatherings  And we came We heard all your raving  We heard all your babbling We cheered you on Remember when we allowed you to our weddings To celebrate with us When we allowed you to grieve with us in our funerals And even in these places, we still heard you We still cheered you on. Remember when we gave you time In our churches Time that belonged to a Mightier being  Hoping it is He that had sent you to lead us Even here we let you rave and babble Remember the long queues  In the scorching sun There where we stood patiently  Just to ensure it is you That gets there Remember the cheering, the celebrations  That we held The jumping and shouting The happiness When it was you that had won Remember then, in your tallness That thunder strikes the highest peak Remember, in arrogance That it is our hands that got you there Remember, the...

Broken pieces of me I walk behind you  You ask me if it is you I follow And no I say And no it is  For following you I stopped When my wholeness was broken When I could no longer hold on  For the bars all fell down, And the rivers that fueled that burning desire dried out. It is not you I follow. No It is the broken pieces of me Those that you drop each day When you look in my eyes with no remembrance of a goodly yesterday I pick them up, I gather them; And soon,  I’ll find the perfect tailor She’ll stitch ‘em up  And soon, These broken pieces of me Will be mended to a better wholeness.                                              James Kaluna 

Doorways home Hope when the night’s too dark; Warmth to a frigid mind; Consolation to a tearful eye; Scintillation to the deepest of secrets; Assurance of a place, solace and salubrious... Whose existence gladdens the heart; Forgives past sins: Promises better days; Ah!  Doorways home are the stars I see in your eyes.                                              James Kaluna

Look like love The way she dances with objects  The way her colors are never the same The ability she uses to hide from her fears; To keep herself safe and unharmed, To find solace and peace from the preying world. But this is not why I envy her. This is not why I desire to have her ability;  No, not to hide from my fears No, not to elude danger... Ye Chameleon, teach me how to look like things Teach me how to change color  Teach me, so that I can find the color of love, wherever it stands, And look like it.                                                 James Kaluna

Torn betwixt silence and solemnity  Knocked hard by quietude and calmness Plundered by the rage of nothingness Destroyed in that vacuum nature of an hour without minutes, Minutes devoid of seconds, Seconds that mark heartbeats; heartbeats that show life. Life. Life bustling with joy and glamorous babble. He longed for life, For disturbances that would rock his calm And sweep away the cold silence. Beautiful noise that would beat hard on his loneliness: Abrading between the stolid taciturnity and the madding sound waves, Creating a kind of heat and warmth that he knew he lacked.                                            James Kaluna