Cory Huennekens

I am a spark.
I am not a roaring fire
I am not the shining sun
I am not a small flame
...

My cocoon ignorance and bliss, warm and safe like the womb.
I would have stayed but nature would not have it.

I was wrapped so tightly.
...

This is a poem about someone with an odd Greek name
Not because it’s important
Or because it has anything to say
But so I can sound smart and educated
...

You’ve forgotten the old ways
Traded them for easier days
When humans become lazy
The future then becomes hazy
...

The Mayan priest clasped the bone knife
Between both hands he held the blade high,
Some distance above the ground he stood
The exact height he knew the math of,
...

The roots of my mountain are shaken when I consider you
The wide rivers of my heart swell and spill over
The clouds of my mind are dark grey
Pregnant with the rain of your spirit
...

I saw a star shining brightly in the sky
Greens and reds and oranges but with blue and purple
All around surrounded by black empty space
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Let me sing you a song of creation, a time before time
The gears of celestial heaven
Can you sing the celestial scales?
Can you bind the great Paladies or loose Orion's belt?
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The eager younger brother swarms with sparkle
His eyes furnace blazing stars
He runs runs runs speedily
He glistens with sweat
...

My chains my chains
Electric path ways
In my brain
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The ground so sparse and dry
Just a drop to make it green
And it was green for a day
The next morning brown again
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I love the things people hate
Rain and grey and even a little pain,
All can be used for the good of God
Every purpose has a stain
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I am a bee to your honey
drip by drip drop
Mesmerized,
I sit starting at you
...

The main path is hard and paved
And each day its ease is craved
But that path, no it’s not for me
I belong among the whispering trees
...

I will tear this temple down
And in three days rebuild
But in your blind deafness
You will still look to a hill
...

Not my will but yours
For what am I?
If I had a thousand years,
What would I be?
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In times gone by, it was easy to see
Where a man was a slave
And where he was free
...

Luna,
What’s this?
Driving men mad,
Spreading your pale wings,
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O! fair judge, wrapped in a cloak of piety
dawning fair garments called propriety
You who's name is poison and ill
tolerance your badge of false love,
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What are we? Where are our masters? Wrapped in cords of copper and gold and light? A deist and theist and A theist all walked into a bar, sat down and talked about nothing. The lonely teenage pot head prostrated on his knees in front of neon gods who inhabit vacuums and occupy their Elysium
...