Frank (Black) Blacharczyk

Frank (Black) Blacharczyk Poems

unquestioning faith
propaganda sweet like candy
follow the yellow brick road
paved with good intentions

The crucified thief had no escape
No one to cry or to say good bye
No past no history only a thief condemned
With another who was born with a choir of angels

Dear children, let us not love with words or speech
but with actions and in truth*
The deafening sound of love lightens the load
Beginning has an end the end has a beginning

A choir of angels danced in the heavens
The sun was shining with breaking news
The Son was rising
Shaking heaven and earth a rock it did roll

Nobody drowns in the Water of Life
No one starves eating fruit from the Tree of Life
The Light will be a candle in my darkest hour
A stream of Water when I thirst for peace

The mirror never lies but we do to ourselves and others
A reflection that speaks louder than our conscience
Smothered by denial so the ghosts of our past disappear
The mirror casts only what it sees past or present

When I've lost my way
Where do I go how do I sew
What has been torn
I've seen a criminal he looks familiar

And God Created

And God created the earth in six days
rested on the seventh day satisfied


I have tears you cannot see
They drip like a broken spout
If you listen you can hear it dripping
Since my first breath

Sitting in a quiet room quietly listening
Thinking creating a happy ending
Distant sounds yes every day sounds
Voices some loud and angry some laughing

How many times have you spoken to me
And I pretended not to listen
Even tapped me on the shoulder a time or two
I looked the other way pretending not to feel it


Even though there is chaos that builds a wall
I still have hope
I have a friend who made a promise
Of peace that overcomes all understanding

There was famine in the souls of men
Hearts having failed everything that was
Was turned upside down by fact or fiction
Made and created by fighting for the throne

Under the tree at Mamre three visitors stood
They looked like you and me
But One was different from the others
Waiting just waiting for

O Lord
In my life the sun rises and it sets
In my darkness I see you
Chilled yet feeling the warmth of your touch

I love my daughter
My God loves me you know
We all have an Absalom
A little in you and me

Once upon a time it was called the Great War
Alright it wasn't a great war said the dead
Not according to the unknown soldiers
Blown away somewhere out there

In my time of need
as a young man I sat in the pew staring just staring
at the stained glass windows speaking to me
more than any sermon

Though I fall and fail He is my healer
Like He did for so many when He walked
When I lose my way in the darkness
I look for the light switch for He is my light

It is a dangerous thing to be a lone voice
Living in this wilderness
Where do I find the time to say
I love you

The Best Poem Of Frank (Black) Blacharczyk

Hop Skip And Jump

unquestioning faith
propaganda sweet like candy
follow the yellow brick road
paved with good intentions
the road is long with an unstable load
words that change colour with every corner
The sweet taste turns sour
God is played though out of tune
And in the wrong key
I wonder why
I sigh and then I cry
so I can laugh at the lie
and I wonder why so many
follow the leader
Hop skipping and jumping
until it hurts

Frank Black Blacharczyk

Frank (Black) Blacharczyk Comments

Frank (Black) Blacharczyk Quotes

'Poor and free rather than rich and enslaved. Of course, men want to be both rich and free, and this is what leads them at times to be poor and enslaved.' - Notebooks (1942-1951) Albert Camus

False face must hide what the false heart doth know

'Always when markets are in trouble, the phrases are the same: ' The economic situation is fundamentally sound' or simply ' The fundamentals are good.' All who hear these words should know something is wrong.'

We can deny our heritage and our history, but we cannot escape responsibility for the result.

Those seeking power spin their lies like truth like a spider spins its web sometimes unseen until one walks into it.

'I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough; we must do.'

'Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.'

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