Christian Allen Poems

The Book Keeper, smells of ashes and cherry wood,
Of pipes and tinder, and of things ancient and grey.
His beard is a forest, of thick white hair,
Even it has seen things, that I haven’t.
...

God’s country is a place between,
The two great seas.
God’s country is a forest,
Of evergreens and pines.
...

He sat with his fingers interlocked,
Staring at me from his office chair.
I will make you a deal,
He said with smoke seeping from his lips.
...

Sleepily I wake, sleepily I wonder
With elation, am I filled when the sun
Breaks in from the outside, through my window
It drowns me.
...

Wrecked and vexed,
I called upon your mercy

Neck in neck, tastes of flesh,
...

Resting in fields, in the shoes you dirtied in high school
With the sweat caked on your brow, red clay mixed and dried
You smoke a cigarette where your fathers fell and you walk
These trees are the hosts of our stages and forums that we've acted in
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Sun, trees are cold, follow me son
Come to the harvest of your youth
Dance with me around the leave piles
The smoke rises from this Georgia hill
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When my music plays, the seconds will not tick
While the notes fall, the sun will hold its place
I will be wrapped in the eternal warmth of the innocent
As the drums crash down, so dropp my feet on this dirt path
...

He lied about a cigarette
Told a stranger it was his last
Time would drip and he would regret
The grip on cursed pleasure he kept so fast
...