My Convictions, More Fragile Than The Glass Around My Neck.

When The Dust Won’t Settle.

Recently I set the universe above my lungs.

And so it pulls into me the reasons for my being.

The day fills each one with a quivering panic

understanding an impending exhale; 2 ways.

Bumbling up the throat to spill on ground,

A result without substance, sopped up with layers disposable.

The latter, here is the why

A cluster of energy was set so righteously

resounding, something shall be heard.

Not in waves, seas are held to this earth no matter how deep,

but this proclivity is upwards and out

rudely it pushes past all that was known

forcefully, madly happy, tapping on the panes of a big, broad door.

Which was not there before,

(Having human eyes I set down something to be understood, so a door.

A fitting and overused metaphor but it will not change, it is a large door.)

I seek to heave at this man-made obstructure

to open something akin to a starry floodgate.
ONE,
I heaved,
TWO,
This time I HO'd.
THREE,
The force of a combined HEAVE HO, 

it cracked opened, silent and slow.
 

The dust that settled on the day God did now coats my bleeding brow

and hangs in the air. We have “un-settled” a hard weeks work, and in the dust I press my pointer so that all passing Gods and men will know the answer to “What is the name of the one who was here?”  
or simply “Who did this?” &”What was it for?”

“Did he know what he was when he opened this door?"

The question remains, and around the imprint they stand

the same pointers are poised, scratching omnipotent heads.

Here set a man, made to open a door.

Here set a door, made to open for man.

With entirety dangling under his chin,

He set to articulate, knowing the secret to the best questions.

The greats have not just one answer but when asked the right way, resounding (not like waves)

Upward & out each man has his own answer, from under which

more questions sprout. Creating mad force for a happy tapping on the panes of a big, broad door.

“NO SOLICTING.” It says

which was not there before.
Inquiring, tapper taps, more ever more:

"What came first?

The Man or his Metaphor?"

_______________________________________________________

This poems was an immensely pleasant surprise.
I just wrote it today with no inkling about it before hand.

I had been working on The Leper King Acts 1 & 2 but I haven't finished them.
And a few other unfinished poems, which is odd. I usually don't start a poem and 

put it off for so long.

Either way I hope you enjoy this one, and I apologize for how long it's been since I last posted something with some meat on it's bones.

Good Evening & Godspeed,
C.B. Franz 

Blogger Said I Needed A Title So Here Is Your Damn Title.

I apologize guys.
I haven't written you anything decent in over a month.
Almost had something tonight but nope, here's all I got.

The Leper King

Today a rat took my toe,

Not even good.
Sigh,
Often when angry/sad I just channel into writing and then it just flows 

out like an angsty chocolate fountain but this just makes me feel like yelling into a quarry.
I don't even know any quarries personal.

Fuck.

Godspeed & whatever,
C.B. Franz