Timothy Lawton

11-2-1990

Sail on sail on
From the land of those who take from his sea readily and will die
To the land of those who are dead, dead to the world
Sail against the current of the sea, the sea of iniquity
A current driving us back from whence we came
Gone is the albatross as the waves start to churn
Fueled by a driving wind the breath of evil growing stronger
Sail on, sail on into the storm
Sail into the test the tribulation
Ride against the storm and weather its ardent fury
The waves gather in a most tumultuous conspiracy with the wind and rain
As they wait to heed the command of darkness
We prepare the ship for the imminent onslaught
Strengthening it where it is weak insuring the prowess of its strengths
Nervously awaiting the dissonant horns that announce the release of the Dark Poseiden’s arsenal
With a shrill chord his orchestration violently attacks
From clouds darker than a moonless night a strobe light raining fire from the sky
In a raging wind with shearing rain each wave vehemently smacks at the deck
Tossing us like a toy ship in a tempest
The wind whipped rain seems as if it were shards of glass
Caught amongst churning waves that stand tall like colossal walls of water
Trying to drive us back from whence we came
Or send us in splinters to the bottom of the sea
Tempting us to surrender into his impudent rebellion
But for now we have survived by faith alone
And we sail in a calmer, but conjuring sea
Sailing on faithfully
Conquering each wave and wind accordingly

8-9-1994

What do you think Santa’s elves do the other eleven months of the year?
They obviously don’t go to some Caribbean island
Or so called tropical paradise on vacation
Ever see an elf in a bathing suit?
Santa wouldn’t allow that
That capitalist pig
That fat red nosed pot belly Andrew Carnegie
He thinks he can fool the whole planet
With a one night jaunt around the world
Giving rickety old broken down toys to kids
I know what’s going on
Santa’s got to have money to perform his charade
And he’s not going to make it pimping elf chicks on 42nd  street although he’s tried
The day after Christmas that toy factory turns into a munitions plant
Slaving his elves six days a week
And he deals to the highest bidder
How else could he afford to fly one night around the world?
Giving out toys to kids
Then laze around his elite compound
Playing tennis and swimming in his heated pool on the Arctic tundra
Entertaining Robin Leech

7-2-1998

Ma’aseh Bereshit those beautiful words that are at the beginning of all creation
The being of life and host of heavens the seed and flower of all my joy
And the very root of all my sadness
Oh, if that last line could only be struck out
My poem could be one of jubilation
One of praise and without damnation
But, instead I am left to wither as the earth is left to waste
Ma’aseh Bereshit has brought forth nothing for me to lament
Then wherefore does my sadness find its root?
I will tell you where
In the heart of darkness in the breath of fire
In the Apocalypse of the world the destruction of all things
The Lord has blessed me and mankind has taken it away
The Lord has taught me and I understand why he regretted he has ever made mankind
Not that God and I don’t delight in what has been made
But, simply that we now weep for what is being done
I pray for my affliction to be lifted, but realize that I have been born to the worst of times
The seas sear and the land laments
The trees tremble and the creatures cry
Creation crumbles
The earth is angry and my countenance reveals its rage
What is good is considered evil
What is evil is considered good
All that is wrong with the world goes unnoticed
The storms strike in streams of anger ravaging all that lay in their path
Yet, man believes he has refuge in his cities a haven in his home
Security is thought to be safe in hand
The future is sure and thoroughly planned
Yet, time testifies against us we surely will reap what we have sown
We are but an iron statue with clay feet and truly we will tumble to the ground
Murderous children will grow to full sized hounds
Dogs of the devil are being raised and the land is not the only thing we have set ablaze
Passions ruled by fiery flames are fanned by the wind desire
We have chosen our Lord and bow to our sire
But, still our eyes cannot see
We are the swarm of locusts darkening the sky
Feeding on creation and cannibalized
Ma’aseh Bereshit, Barah, that which only God creates
And we, it is only we who destroy
Death is of our own making
The clay is of our own shaping
And we have thrown the whole world into the kiln, but we can’t feel the flames
I see in frustration and know in disbelief
I can’t stand the fire or get used to the heat
Dear God, dear God when again will you speak the words
Ma’aseh Bereshit

Undated

Give me a culture fed through a tube
Preaching about monetary funds and Jiffy Lube
A likeable Judge and a plaintiff buffoon
Whose fifteen minutes came fifteen too soon
With call in shows that show how long ago we should have called it in
Too much MTV and not enough workout gym
Make Johnny a fat boy
With not enough time and too many toys
Perspiration, palpitation, I think I’m going to be sick
Here’s a bill and a pill I hope you get better quick
Liposuctions take a long time to heal
About six months rest and two thousand meals
As we laugh and walk away
I think I’ll see what’s on today
A time out or a time never in
Some are distracted and others dim

2004

Why Haiku sucks so
Restrained by syllabic flow
Rigid Bushido