Joseph Narusiewicz Poems

Focus that rage
West Texas cowboy boots
Plaster walls falling down
Her silk dress like Hyde Park in London
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Bliss like science with no boundaries
the gods of creation have plans
castle lights brain chips
experiments
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Balm of self discovery then the cage
Blood from a tongue of guile
Apothecary of loneliness
Summer rocks in the cold moon
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The wish to be healed
Maybe that is the healing

I carry these heavy stones
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On the lithograph smile of handcuffs
Your razor heels devour me
Once innocent ribbons painted
Pure color deep as oak trees
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Summer is an executioner
Moonlight curls its white fingers
Joy threatens the war of the heart
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The older I get the more I believe in the Bible as the absolute Word of God. To make Jesus into a existential subjective experience separate from Scripture and propositional truth is just plain heresy. Christ according to the Scripture allows experience to be grounded with proposition and doctrine; this balance is essential. So many who try to tamper with this end up with a ship wrecked faith.
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These lapses of memory
Quaint as a man living without love
Through the window the old city
Streets we held hands on
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your bosom of iron sea
nothing touches me like you
your wealth of joy
your teasing smile
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Pithy saints of the seventh wave
Democracy becomes the flesh
The will of all the fallen flesh
Technology sleeps with the flesh
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