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George Murdock

The Sum of Absolution

The wall of his cell was self imposed
from the moment of his entrance
to his untimely exit.
His sentence was executed
from the time of his birth
to his unexpected death.
He lived for a while
in this absurd existence
seeking absolution
for a crime he had not committed
Continually experiencing guilt
for sins uncommitted.
His hulking form meaning no more
than those diminutive
his crimes of thought no less
soluable
At the end of his experience
was a truncated pause
An imagined resolution
which produced no salvation.

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The Deceiver

When can the world rest from war, disease and poverty?
Why does the one god of all choose certain people
To heap calamity on them?
Raise some up above all to be his captains
arm them to kill those he hates
What manner of God would make night and day
battle for the shadows?
Hide his face in the bosom of nature so that none
may see him, yet charge them with his presence
Command them to sacrifice blood
to kill his enemies
be pleased by the odor of burning flesh
Surely this is not the God of Abraham
but the devil himself.

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Homeless

There were song birds sweetly singing
and fawns beside a brook
all the while a mandolin elf
danced atop a book
which lay upon my heaving chest
as I lay beneath a bough
a mattress made of dandelions
defied gravity somehow
When I awoke the day had fled
The shadowed light grew dim
I rose up like the vapor
which floats above the glen
the cold wind seemed then to move me
toward the city’s edge
I rejoined my surly carcass
sleeping neath a bridge.
If I had a dollar
I’d buy a jug of wine
and kiss my lovely mistress
the siren of the vine.

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Karma

One day a wind will rise
from the furrows
of a barren field
and move through the jagged frames
of broken windows
and bullet holes in walls
and through the cages of bleached ribs
and sardonic grins of skulls
this wind will rise from the sunfilled skies
and brush the cheeks of sleeping lovers
beneath the boughs of swaying Willows
and startle the still winged dragon flies
on the face of a glassy brook
this wind will gust in its race to find rest
and break like the shards of a wave
on some deserted foreign shore
where no foot has ever set
and never will

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Breathing and Enduring

This engine drones on in its tedious unimaginable mission
Its fire is breath and glucose, lit and blazing like billions
Of tallow candles.
I am able to locate these places of fire and water
But where is my seat.
My throne is porcelain seated atop a wax crown
And yet I strain to find the place I dwell
My question does not echo and the voice which
Throws stones at shadows
Has no place amidst this burning place
When this voice is silenced by a mystery of unrepentant cline
Of unrelenting arms which wheel across a face
I will then greet my echo of breathing and enduring

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Scions

She is pale in her flower garden.
Unlike the colorful earthbound tenants
populating the rows and beds.
Some uninvited and resisting eviction,
as she roughly snatches them like hair
from fecund scalp.
She is kneeling like a penitent
lost to her prayers.
Oblivious to the rest of it.
I watch her from the window
as I wrestle with form.
Choosing words over feelings.
Weeding desperately in my garden.
Trying to see the flowers
through the carnivorous weeds.
She is better in her work.
Drawing pleasure from the honesty and simplicity
of noble nurturing effort.
While I on the contrary,
an insane gardener, murdering

[...] Read more

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Mirror

Like any other changeling
She was waiting to transform
Waiting for her arms to curl into flaps
Waiting for another set of legs to emerge
Standing before the mirror of transformation
With the decal in the upper corner of the glass
Of a white winged unicorn
Suddenly the thought of morphing
Frightened her a bit
As she thought of the impossibility
Of being in the ballet
Or riding on an airplane to visit her aunt
She crossed her fingers
Canceling her wish to be a unicorn
She spun three times before the magic mirror
And closed her eyes
Hoping that when she opened them
She would just be herself
And wondering as she did this
Exactly who or what she was

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Mother

They left you where you had fallen
against your pane
like a sparrow deceived in flight
with your delicate frail wings
folded limply to your side
your eyes closed to the world
I felt anger rise
at the feckless efforts
to protect you
from the inmates
the simple monsters
shuffling the halls in drugged trances
into each others rooms
to pilfer cigarettes or money, or
a grope of your gaunt flesh
I stood at the foot of your bed
staring down at you for the last time
crying through my shame
through my lucid realization
of abandonment

[...] Read more

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Afterglow

I fall into the green pools of your eyes
once again
like crimson tipped rose petals into a violent stream
rushed away from sensibility
holding this moment spent with you
for eternity
I raise my hand in a fist
To my mouth
biting knuckles to test reality
as if this time ending has never begun
and when I turn to you
you are still with me and we are
naked beneath sweating sheets
wearing bodies we’ve never seen
until now
me and you in incandescent truth
of years which have pinioned
and ground against us
like water against rocks in a stream
leaving us dull and pale

[...] Read more

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A Garden on the Moon

Let me say this standing while I still have breath to sing
There must be a light somewhere that brightens everything
I try like someone desperate to light a fire of the heart
I strike another match and watch you blow it all apart
I swear to the heavens that I love you more than life
I know there is no other that would make a finer wife
But our world is like a prison
One that we have built
Or like a garden in the desert
Where the flowers grow but wilt
What makes us miss the moments
In the photos and the cards
Is knowing this will end someday
and forever we will part
Until then let’s find solace
In a poem or a tune
waiting for the warmth of spring
in a garden on the moon.

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