FEAR NOT THE NIGHT

There’s power in the blood of Christ,
And power in the dead of Night;
The hand of God made warm daylight,
But Dark’s accused of evil-kissed.

God’s power from the dark enticed

A separation, called it “light.”
There’s power in the blood of Christ,
And power in the dead of Night.
   
My God and Night as one exist,
And so it’s been since first twilight;
Fear not the darkness and its mist,
Night’s imbued with all God’s might.
 
There’s power in the blood of Christ.

                         --Monty Wheeler

HUNGER

*dark’s the place I wander in;

walk where stark reality’s thin
and darkness lights the fears within*

HUNGER

“Come nigh, My Pretty; bow to me,

“And give me of sweet misery,
“For on your tears, I feed, you see;
“Now come, My Pretty, cry for me.

“And bleed for me; I’ve want to hear

“Your silent screams of agony.
“And run away, but you’ll come back
“To know me more in secrecy.

“Now come dark angels in the wind;

“You’re naught but carrion;
“Into the depths of Hell, they’ll bring
“Your fears I’ll always feed upon.

“Come nigh, My Pretty, don’t you see

“I’ve need; I’ve set my hunger free
“To roam within your soul’s dark place
“And eat of your last sanity.”

                        --Monty Wheeler

 

RAMBLES

rambles of the darkened place,
not void of light but on my face
tears that Mercy can't erase.

and loud the wails of silent pain
yet stoic sits this thing again
to ponder souls in poison rain.

and loud the screams though heard by none
the tortured damned stripped and won
as prizes of the dark man's fun.

and lo, I walk the valley of the shadow
walk with me through this dark meadow
live as if you're his dark widow.

and give me place in your warm heart
for cold I live and cold's the part
I suffer through and then to start

the pencil flowing till the end
and death shall be the one to rend
the pencil from my clutching hand.

                                     --Monty Wheeler

LOVE'S VERSE

“Come lay with me,” she said, “and in this bed
“Whisper those sweet bits of poesy;
“In voice of Love and Lust’s mixed harmony
“Sing low, Sweet Chariot. . .or wish you had.

“Where love can lie, love, too, can surely fly

“Let not this chance for love escape like Night,
“As Morning’s dawn will open her gold eye.
“Will fade away like birds in northward flight.

“Dark verse of moon and velvet nighttime brings

“A heat to lonely heart to breed the lust
“That in a tidal wave of passion sings
“Of giving over self with utter trust

“Breath the words with fingers in my hair

“And take me to another place somewhere.”

                                    --Monty Wheeler

NE'ER WILL NATURE BOW

She walked along the windswept ridge,
Her thin, gray hair blown back.
Two hundred feet below her lay
His corpse in blood-turned-black.

And soon the wolves would come to her

In answer to her call.
And God?  She’d lie and say they came
Drawn to fresh-killed smell.

Came one along the deep ravine;

A second followed after;
A third upon the mountain top
Howled in crazy laughter.

And from her mind, not from her lips

She called again for more
To feast upon the meal that lay
On silent woodland floor.

Soon came a wolf as large as man,

A second but to none;
It’s fangs were bared in silent scream,
The hungered rage of one.

She pointed down; the beast stood still,

Ne’er looked upon the man,
But looked upon the living meal
With favor put upon.

And slowly came the pack to feed,

Two dozen snow-starved beasts.
Atop that barren, rocky ridge
God’s wolves came to their feasts.

EPILOGUE:

She perished with the fool's dark thought

That nature bowed to her;
Ere exists inside God's wolves;
Cold justice fair and pure.

                        --Monty Wheeler

SONG OF SOULS IN FLIGHT

My gratitudes to Kellie Elmore for 1) the inspiration of this verse and 2) her permissions to borrow the image.

A SMILE (a kyrielle)

my gratitudes to The NWCU and their Wednesday wake-up call for making me think.  and while I don't normally think of my works as making my world a better place, opportunities abound to make a stranger smile and in turn my world is better.

 

 

See that lady stooped down there?

She dropped her, dime and do I care?
She’s old, of trembling finger’d style;
I’ll change my world one smile by smile.

That little old man in shuffle step?

His cup is empty of the pep.
I’ll run or hold the door awhile
And change my world one smile by smile.

A tiny act of kindness in

This harried world can get a grin;
And no man is a lonely isle;
Let’s change our world one smile by smile.

                                    --Monty Wheeler