Paul Andrew Bourne

Like the dew of the morning,
No one knows from whence it came
Or where it goes thereafter
Like a thought
...

I stood perched on the mountain
like a thief, like a thief
like a thief I stood in a surveillance mode
searching for the cracks,
...

Like a seed
I began in the open firmaments of the heavens
battered by the very elements of nature
to make me strong
...

Hurting
hurting deeply
hurting severely
weeping, rolling, irritated
...

Each day slowly drifts afoot
pointing, inching, driving
the beginning of a scientific genesis
the creation of a whole new form
...

I awoke advancing from the confines of a covenant
like leaves in an opened runlet. To see waters cascading
in from off the citadel of ravished bowels
from the acceptance of twisted and broken things.
...

bitter!
Ooooh
bitter!
bitter more than vinegar
...

I see emptiness in their utterances
I see corruption as their intent
as what is uttered is not meant
and what is meant to be interpreted,
...

I'm a man
clothed in mystic, power and structure
labeled by the socialization
after arrival
...

caught in a politics of culture
designed for the indifferent
they are brought to nothing
because a web
...

I see everything designed around me
no me, no me in a system of mercy
and the Covent of Mercy is the
epitome of abuse
...

I watch the idea develop
through infancy
taking turns in growth,
development and maturity
...

I live in a space
where the makes are twisted for everything
yet they speaketh not
so oppressive is the system it extracts the blood
...

I sat beneath the heavens
in a garden of magnificent bliss
just contemplating what is
what is
...

Why?
Why, why?
Why, why, why?
Why, why, why do I love thee?
...

Like a child, I was born innocent of my ancestral roots
Only knowing that which I was taught by the system's socialization
Not knowing that there is a purpose of my being beyond this universe
When in time my Ancestors call out to my being from within
...

the old, new, encounter
see
a cry of contagious flows
watered in
...

What is life without a story,
and what is a story's essence without its moral
as it pains the psyche to know that you're alone
on a trail of love's trajectory -
...

I arise this morning confused, bothered by a call from the deep
I remembered nothing but my soul was troubled by the night before
A dream that ripped through my soul; but, it was lost in the morning
While the bewilderment lingered in my soul
...

Tempted to, tempted to
I was tempted by my socialization into believing
that which was said
Yes, it was a temptation so sweet and pure
...