The Man with Too Many Eyes

• He learned one thing, an eye appeared,
  It blinked, it bloomed, its sight was clear.
  He smiled: I see much more, my friend.
  A new way of seeing had begun to bend.

  So he read more books, studied night and day,
  And each time he learned, another eye grew
  On his chest, his hands, his spine, his shoes,
  Eyes sprouting like mushrooms after rain.

  He saw the world from every side,
  He saw through lies, he saw through pride.
  And then he saw the people near
  With only two, so small, so mere.

  He told them what they could not see,
  He told them what they ought to be.
  He told, and told, until alone,
  He wandered off to find his home.

  A mirror stood inside his room.
  He turned, and met his sudden doom,
  An army of eyes stared back in glass,
  A thousand stares, a silent mass.

  They saw it all. They saw too much.
  No place to hide, no gentle touch.
  Just flesh and truth, no clothes, no mask,
  “I am naked, why do I began to fear?”
  And every eye began to tear.
• They raised their flags on either side,
  One draped in colours and in pride
  But not the kind that lifts the soul,
  The kind that builds a bullet hole.

  One preached love, with fists held high,
  Yet damned the ones who would not try
  To speak the code or wear the face
  That fit within their sacred space.

  This other prayed with folded hands,
  Behind white doors in shuttered lands,
  Where sermons burned but gave no warmth,
  Where grace was locked within the storm.

  I stood between them, in the ash,
  No holy book, no glitter flash.
  They asked which side I must belong,
  As if the question wasn’t wrong.

  I didn’t march beneath their lights,
  The dead left bodies on either sides
  Instead, I found a different sound
  A funeral beat, a battleground.

  The silent band came marching through,
  With eyes like mine and fractured truths.
  Not saints, nor stars, but misfit ghosts,
  The ones both sides would fear the most.

  Drums of sorrow, horns of rage,
  An anthem for the out-of-cage.
  And in their song, I felt my name
  Not one of theirs, but just the same.

  So let them chant and let them cheer,
  I’ll wear my black and disappear.
  Not into silence, not to fade
  But marching proud in the Black Parade.
• Upon the throne of endless skies,
  I stood where silent stillness lies.
  The gate stood tall, with flames concealed,
  No key to turn, no lock unsealed.

  “Great and holy is the Lord on high,
  I am His servant, please don’t deny.
  Let me in, I know His ways,
  Through grace I walk, through endless days.”

  The gate stood firm, the wind blew still,
  The fire burned, the clock kept time.
  The heart kept beating, two, then three
  While shadows danced inside of me.

  Knock, knock, knock on Heaven’s door,
  Knock, knock, knock, I have seven more.
  The sky grew dark, the silence roared;
  Alone I stood, with doubt explored.

  Far ahead, an army formed,
  With spears and horns, a flood, a storm.
  A trumpet blared, a banner waved;
  The dead arose, their names engraved.

  “Please let me in! The mob is near!
  I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”, I cried in fear.
  The dragon grinned, the harlot swayed,
  With trembling hands, my sword I raised.

  The heavens flared with radiant light,
  Golden fire pierced the endless night.
  A choir of angels sang on high,
  And the kingdom shone across the sky.

  The seal broke loose, the flames grew mild;
  A voice proclaimed, “Come home, My child.”
  I ran within, I did not stall,
  The key was found: the faith in Psalms.
• A child was born with holy water
  Took the communion with bread and wine
  Looked at the cross, hands to the Author
  Locked inside the room, pearls to swine

  Was it the boy’s or Darwin’s choice?
  The choice to be, or rewired from?
  The bread and wine must be a faux
  Unlucky with the dice, unlucky boys.

  A child of fire, baptized in doubt,
  Torn between the earth and sky’s devout.
  Still loves the town, the Christian town.
  Wants to rise, yet keeps looking down.

  Is there truth in the whispering sound?
  The light from the cross, is it lost or found?
  The serpent coils, the angel sings,
  Is life a blessing or a chain with wings?

  They said love is patient, love is kind.
  he lights a candle on a Sunday night
  The prayers are whispered, the tears are dry,
  But still he questions the reasons why.
• Walked to the garden to plant a seed
  These I prepare, all that you need
  The light, the water, the air, the sow
  My dear beloved, may you grow

  The birds sang, the dog tail wagged
  Even the eagle, proud and tagged,
  So I planted more, I longed to see
  A garden full of life and glee.

  But weeds appeared, a sudden show
  I pulled at one, and more they grow.
  I pulled at two, still others more.
  Who sows these thorns? is there a foe?

  Shall I throw or shall it grow?
  It is a question, or am I woe?
  Their roots run deep, but not in right.
  Choking light and stealing sight.

  So I knelt low and asked the ground,
  Why are you silent, no hopeful sound
  The soil is tired, it holds old grief
  Roots everywhere, no space to dream

  Yet in the dark, the promise stays
  A whispered hope through weary days.
  For even in a garden torn,
  Hope is a flower still being born.
• I walked to the forest by myself
  To seek a treasure, the Lord declared.
  My mom cried, and blessed me well,
  Saying, “My child, be wise and be aware.”

  “Don’t worry, Ma, I won’t be long,
  The spirit calls, you should let go.”
  My dog ran up, with worried stare.
  “Don’t worry, bro, I’ll always care.”

  The path was thick with shadows deep,
  Where ancient trees in silence weep.
  The farther in, the darker blooms,
  Yet every step I felt the moon.

  In the midst of the forest, there stood a boy,
  His face was pale, his looks destroyed.
  The longer I looked, the more I knew,
  His face was mine, but torn in two.

  He grinned at me, my shadow doubts
  He lunged so quick, no chance to shout
  I understood now, I smiled to bill
  a black dagger, he went to kill

  He missed the heart, the serpent hissed
  Is this a sin? Like Judas’ kiss?
  I took the dagger, I frowned to bill
  The black dagger, he watched me kill
• There was a castle, proud and tall
  With heavy doors and shadowed halls.
  It stood through time, through wind and flame
  Four voices came and called its name.

  Franklin said, “Oh wasted days,
  The idle hours just slipped away.
  Use every breath to shape and strive
  Tear down these walls, and come alive.”

  Dostoevsky, with sorrowed grace,
  “The light met void, and did not flee.
  Through pain and doubt, the self is shown;
  This glass held truth, yet broke alone.”

  Peterson said, “This place is a mess.
  These walls conceal the deep distress.
  Stand, speak truth, and bear the load
  Go forth and walk the dragon’s road.

  Nietzsche laughed, his tone was dire:
  “You serve dead truths and call it fire.
  Break every chain, let falsehoods die
  Become the flame that scorches lies.

  Then came a carpenter, silent and near.
  No name, no crown, no crowds to cheer.
  With calloused hands and tools well-worn,
  Nail-pierced palms, by sorrow torn.

  The four bowed low, their wisdom done
  They cried, yet knew, the work was one.
  This parable is not in Galilee
  Each piece He carved would one day be
• I thank God for the rising sun
  I thank God for the tasty bun
  I thank God for the blocks of trees
  I thank God for my cup of tea

  I thank God for the books I read
  I thank God for the weights I lift
  I thank God for the boots of speed
  I thank God for each precious gifts

  I thank God for the nights I cried
  I thank God for the times I tried
  I thank God for the dreams that died
  I thank God for the paths denied
  
  I thank God for the lessons learned
  I thank God for the grace unearned
  I thank God for the life I see
  I thank God for the gift of me
• A mirror stared with silent grace,
  Reflected truths I dared not face.
  MJ’s voice like November rain
  “Change begins within the frame.”

  The man in the mirror blinked, then spoke,
  Not with lips, but soul awoke.
  He walks backwards across the moon
  “A better place? Go, make a change”.

  Books lay scattered, dreams half-spun,
  A storm of things I’d left undone.
  But then I heard a Canadian tune—
  “You hedonistic whim, clean your room.”

  Dr. Peterson, with steady tone,
  Had struck a chord, I called my own.
  Order first, dragons will clear,
  Dawkins denies, “that’s rubbish dear”.

  I took one step, the first of all,
  And though it seemed so faint, so small,
  The Father smiled beyond the cloud
  The Sheperd’s boy, the wolves sat down
• I am a bird, so small, so weak
  Flies with the flock, don’t fight, don’t speak.
  The kingdom is seen with light and height,
  The hunger games are played at night

  I perched on a tree to rest and stare,
  To daydream what others, don’t you dare.
  An eagle saw, sat next to me,
  “Hello my friend, what is bothering thee?”

  “I’m part of a flock I do not like,
  We do the same. We do not fight
  The world is dark, we choose to fly,
  Ignored the lost, and let them die.”

  He arched his back, his shoulders wide,
  “You call it flight, but you just hide.
  “The sky is yours, if you are bold”
  The eagle rose, his feathers gold,
  

  Then came a sound, bang! bang! bang!
  near struck his eye, a deadly clang
  With fist on air, he fell in light,
  Protect the land boy! Fight! Fight Fight!

  Bright fifty stars, broad stripes of red
  The city of God where dreams are led
  The land of the free and home of the brave
  The nation stood, searching for Judas’ grave