December 12, 2008
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My Son’s Christmas Poem for those who have an ear to hear.
The Identity of Love:
Poem By: Brennon McGuire © 2008-Christmas PoemLove has had its way
Ways with how broken sounds
How pain can sing
Loves truest song-Love knows not
So, Love, knows all
As all come to not
Yet Love makes time for times scale-Love knows dirt, feces, AIDS, and, Death
Love pushes all sentient to the brink of insanity
Love allows for the war of freedom
Love is no kind friend my friend, rather Love is an enemy-Like the bitter taste of a broad spectrum anti-biotic
For, look! Babies are born only to blow candles out
Until, candles, take all of its breath, blown, until there is no more life to blow out
Love has always said though, to mourn at ones birth, to rejoice at ones death
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Love knows not wakeful friends
For they, as we, the semi-conscious, can’t form even one cohesive sentence
For they, as we, are distracted with dreams, visions, Hollywood’s non-linear vintage
We are like old paintings, fitting awkwardly, as Love gazes onwardLove is not on our page
We are in Loves memory
As Love is known to re-write
Love has also been known to tear, rip, erase, even burn, when at ends with non-Perhaps this is why Love likes to listen to a baby’s breath
To remember the time when Love was all there was
Perhaps to know the weakness of bitterness
For Love is a vice unto itself, no pomp, no pretense, no make-up, no, no’s All is yes
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-So, watch, as, Love fly’s to the storms, off Africa’s coast
Where flies breed in open sores
Where fashion is the smell of death
Where the look of stick figures are without powder compacts-This is Love
Perhaps not, or, ever-divine
Perhaps never a graceful being of mortal rules
Perhaps, that is the point, where we, all-ways let free to flight, as three is our Love-One man, like one bird
One woman, like one nest
And, finally, the third, One death, One Love, and…
One friend, found of two, a tree, named three loving the sum of two.
