MERRY CHRISTMAS & HAPPY 2013

I wish you a very Merry Christmas, and hope your holiday will be filled with friends and family, lots of good food, and surprises under the tree. Let's deeply remember that Jesus is the Reason for the Season. Without Him I'd be in a world of hurt. He's made all the difference in my life, and I hope you know Him, too. God bless all who read The Dashboard Poet, all over the world! ~~~ James
p.s.~~~ Merry Christmas, Monarch!

Herod’s Sword at Sandy Hook

Morning’s light is pallid yellow
And feverish on my skin.
All is wrong
And will nevermore be right.

Children fell before the monster
And with them their teachers
All gone
Vanished in the smoky smear.

I cry
Oh, darlings, come back to us!
Come back and prove this a terrible dream!
Visions of hell!

But it is not a dream.
They are not coming back.

Encircling angels weep with us.

All the shining lights
And bright sentiment
Is scattered and shattered
With the babes that fell
On a December Friday morn.

Blood thirst
From Herod’s sword
Is never sated.

O, Sweet Jesus
Hear our prayer.

12/12/12......Just Thinking.......

It's Dec. 12, 2012. Or 12/12/12. Everybody knows that, and writers with far more ability than I will comment on this today, so I won't try to get all poetic. Instead, I'll be mathmatical.

The next time the year spins around to be this orderly, and in sequence, it will be January 1, 2101....or 1/1/1. That's 91 years away, or 1,092 months, or 56,784 weeks, or 397,488 days, or 9,539,712 hours, give or take. My calculator started overheating when it tried to calculate the number of seconds. What, you may ask, does all this mean? Great question! The answer...not a dang thing. Nada. Zip. No meaning whatsoever. It has about as much meaning as the odometer on my truck rolling over to a quarter of a million miles (I told ya I love old trucks). It has about as much significance as my age (I'm 59. Get over it). Numbers mean things when they are preceded by a dollar sign ($). I love those kind of numbers, unless they're on a bill.

Numbers are just numbers, folks. We aren't gonna "bite the big one" on 12/21/12. Life will roll on until Gabriel blows his big 'ol horn, and only God knows when that will be. So, let's all let out a collective sigh and get on with our lives.
High 5, ya'll !
James

Red Dirt

My blood is red
Because Arkansas dirt is red.

Examine my skin cells
Under the scrutiny
Of a microscope.
You will find red dirt.

I grew up playing
In red dirt
The way Yankee kids
Rolled in sand boxes.

Red dirt
Lines my lungs
It’s biologic
Cultural
Spiritual
It’s in my DNA.

My speech is fashioned
By overwhelming buckets of
Red dirt.
It’s the root of my thinking
The gee of my haw.

There are no
Red roads
On your map
But they’re there
And I’ve driven them.

I’ve plumed the sky
With clouds of red dust
Jetting behind my Ford
Rising like granular flame
To thinly coat
Weeds, trees and dogs
Left in my wake.

I’ve chased bulls
In red dirt
And they’ve chased me.
I’ve kicked red dirt
Worked in red dirt
Spit in red dirt
Sat in red dirt
Lay in red dirt
And loved in red dirt.

I’ve cussed it
Blessed it
Loved it
And left it.

My ancestors sleep
In the red dirt
They tilled
Sewed and worked
For generations
And someday I may make
My bed in red dirt too.

But only if I’m lucky.

I am Listening

Sometimes I think I hear a voice.
Not in the natural, auditory sense
But a voice directed toward my center
An intimate voice
I have heard in shout
And whisper.

It is a warm voice
Soothing
Comfortable.

It is an alluring voice
Flirting
Teasing.

It is a sad voice
A note of “I shall see ye ‘neer again.”

It is a disturbing voice
For which I strain to listen
Yet there is but silence.

Across the vast spectrum
Of auditory range I wander
Listening
Ever listening.

And sometimes I think I hear
The voice
And test the sample
Against all I know.

Yet the quiet returns
Leaving me frustrated and alone.

Speak again
Dear one
Speak.

I am listening.

Special Note to "The Strand" Inquiry

The strand is brown. But "brown" in the sense that the sunset is golden. In the same sense that pepper is warm, and love is pleasant. In other words, "brown" is just auburn to most...but to me, this strand is substance and evidence of one who loved me long ago.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING ALL!

This morning, as I rolled out of bed, my right foot set squarely in a little "gift" my "Best Buddy" left for me. Ugh. Nevertheless, I am not going to let even this cold and calculated stunt by my little pup make me not have a heart of thanksgiving. Even for him.

To all my readers, those within the US and those international readers (of which there are hundreds!) I wish you a blessed THANKSGIVING! We all have something to be thankful for. In my last post I spoke of the pain which has chronically attacked me for 15 years. I am thankful for my pain, in as much as it drives me to Jesus, who is "a very present help in time of trouble." Only the dead have no pain. I am sure many of you experience pain that would make mine feel like pleasure, by comparison. Please be thankful that (1.) it's not as bad as it could be, and (2.) that you're still alive, and have much yet to do. But hey...I don't mean to preach. I just hope you can stop long enough to think about all you have to be thankful for. I'm thankful for my readers. Ya'll are way too quiet. I rarely get a comment. But I can hear you breathing!

~~ James
PS---Happy Thanksgiving, Monarch in Flight!

Laugh!

Like an old tire
Worn and frayed to its steel belts
I cannot go much further.

This pain fatigues me.

It bites into my flesh
Making the promise
Of a new day
One, rather, of dread
And foreboding.

But every morning
With few exception
I mount up
To take my place
On the firing line.

I confess to you
Quietly and humbly
That it would work in my favor
Were the unfriendly
And gloomy creatures that be
Gain a brief upper hand
And dispatch me home.

I say this not to alarm
Those who care for me
But to cheer them.

If you hear one day
I have been reprieved
And have slipped life’s silver cord
You are to laugh!
Laugh and be glad.

I will be where I always meant to go.

I Will See You Again

A day is coming
I will see you again.
It may be a day of shimmering sun
Dancing from your hair
In dazzling auburn rays.

I will see you again
Maybe in soft rainfall
Glistening from your shoulders
In prismed light.

I will see you again
Possibly in sparkling snow and ice
Framing the purity of your heart
In tiny pristine crystals.

I will see you again
Perhaps in firelight’s soft comfort
Warming your buttery flesh
In golden and amber tongues of flame.

I do not know
My love
My dear one
What majesty of nature
May illumine your tender form
But this I know…

I will see you again.

Against the Zephyr

I remember your glistening hair
Reflecting bright sun shafts
Long and loosed
Describing the whims of the wind.

As a younger man
I stood alone in golden wheat lands
Hands spread against the zephyr.
I had not remembered that
Until now
With your soft strands wafting free.
Free like Tibetan prayer flags
Seeking divine eyes to see
To know and understand.

How I wish I understood
Knew you.
I would have furled your hair
Tamed your wild heart
And planted hope
In your tender soil.

But I was afraid.
Afraid you would fly
Like the wind that chased you.

I cannot pass a wheat field
Or standing corn
Swaying in summer winds
And not see you again
Your long hair loosed
And flying free.