Jesus Saves

Jesus Saves

Holding the life-size cross aloft Sister Eloise fell.
Another swabbed her broken heels as two words
continued to clash with the ritual drumbeats.
Would these have been her last, she would die.

Sweat soaked her habit. An interpreter leaned
toward a concerned chieftan's ear. He nodded.
And running forward, he lifted her, saying words
she could not at all understand --

Why are you killing yourself to tell us this thing?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

Passion Makes Perfect

Passion Makes Perfect

Personally, I am not sure about this.
And I wonder if qualifiers are in need.
Surely this is a field with boundaries?
Some restrictions amid the freedom?
I believe the phrase must presuppose
One recipient. One giver. A clause:
No other shall trespass at will. None.

Maybe I am old-fashioned about it all.
All I feel is, trust should never involve
Knocking on wood. Hoping for the best.
Every thought can then be directed to a
Sense of forever being too short a time.

People often convince themselves that
Every new possibility is a valid option.
Re-arrange what can be moved unknown.
F * * * with the one that didn't bring you.
Every true love that was ever developed
Came to be what it is on better principles.
The kind of passion that is beyond passion.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

A Pigeon Strutting

A Pigeon Strutting

It cannot be anything about pride.
The forward thrust with every step.
More about balance. I do it, too.
But it's not seen in my stride. Mind
over matter, as they say. But I walk.

Through this world I put best foot
forward.  And I'll shake your hand -
Ever mindful of falling off a ledge.
Often I will put clothes on, prior to
differing from the pigeon only in the

pecking at the pavement below us.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

By Any Other Name

By Any Other Name

Far be it from me to argue this point.
Yet -- here go I --

To me exclusivity is key.
Faithfulness more than a virtue.

Trust irreversible.
Honesty a necessity.

Love never in a queue.
Glances not misunderstood.

One lover in one mind.
One name on two lips.

Any rose? Would smell as sweet?
I disagree, Bill.

You need to read further you fool.
Juliet was completely on the same page!

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

The Author @ Night

The Author @ Night

Surely at some point in the future I will be replete.
Batting at a moth struggling for the same light, he
scratched away the word replete. -- Superfluous.
Adding, In ages hence there will be no such need.

Thoughts will be transmitted in other ways. Faster.
Dipping the quill, his window revealed a lone girl
tossing back her hair, and a soldier approaching.
A discussion ensued. She ran off crying in the rain.

He dipped again and brought forth a new sheet.
Genevieve from that night forward left her harlot life.
And we have every page since to thank that nothing
from the first verse has ever come to pass.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

What Is Beautiful?

What is Beautiful?

The topic was human relationships. Not sunsets.
Or rabbits. Or cuteness. Or the full moon at night.
One said That surety of each other. Trust. Faith.
The campfire gave a little burst -- as if agreeing.

One looked away. The ability to laugh together.
Far off an owl hooted -- several heads nodding.
Quiet. A ubiquitous goofball mumbled Good sex.
I bent forward to kill flames from a marshmallow.

And I felt it in the exhalation. The perfect answer.
In the distance a clattering train let loose a moan.
Still holding hands when you are old and grey?
Pretty good I must admit. But then I said the word.
Forgiveness.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

Vacancy

Vacancy

There is a thing that happens when you get out of a cab
blocks before your address so you can walk in the rain
dreaming that the wetness will irrigate your brain toward
clearer thoughts -- a higher level that hopes to displace
what you know to be even truer with every step you take.

Namely that the novelists and the moviemakers wrong
wrong wrong in their assumption that love is the greatest
emotion maybe have not yet experienced the emptiness
of loss -- or never fumbled in a soaked pocket for a key
that cannot possibly unlock the very place you want to be.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --