Calamity

Citizens, what path has led to this,
Tottering on the edge of some dark abyss,
Where a mere puff of some ill wind,
To us, some unknown bottom will send.

At this place we once stood before,
Brother against brother amongst blood and gore.
The air thick with smoke and cannon roar,
Through out our land the turmoil tore.

And the dying cried, how did it come to this?
A country once proud we sorely miss.
Yet out of that horror and dark divide
Rose our people with regained pride.

The question is now raised again,
Are we to bend to some ill wind?

John Mullinax July 2013

Ballad of Innocent Jones

Ballad of Innocent Jones

Dark and dreary came the night.
Shadows danced in the thin moon light.
By each shrub a danger seemed to lurk.
Each new sound caused his head to jerk.

By every measure, a man on the run,

His eyes were wild, he had no gun.

Far back it had been lost in the glen,
a place he should never have been.

He had been there for a secret meet
with his fair love he had hoped to greet.

Instead encountered he a scene of dread
for there had laid his love, cold and dead.

There startled, he stopped fast in his track
unaware of the approach to his back.

The blow, sudden, sent him sprawling.
Landing hard, sent to the ground clawing.

Of this monster he was yet to see,
as his whole being fought to be free.

Then felt he the edge of steel so cold.
This was it, never he to ever grow old.

But then, his hand was upon his gun,
the fight not lost, nor was it yet won.
He yelled, “before my throat you cut,
show me your face if you have the gut.”

He was rolled over and the face to see
another shock, the best friend had he.

No time to comprehend, a shot he fired.
The bullet plopped, into the brain it mired.

Free of dangers grip, he looked around
and there lay two bodies upon the ground.

Still in terror’s clutch, the knife he grabbed,
the knife by which his love was stabbed.

He then realized, who would understand,
it was not he the cause of how it all began.

Then faintly was heard, a bark, a voice,
“Who goes there?” It left to him no choice.

He quickly dropped the knife and gun.

Into the black water of the swamp to run,
the hounds were howling the chase begun.
Full of fear he thought to never see the sun.

His love forever gone, tears began to flow.
They would never understand, never know
it was not he to blame, but his best friend
by whose cruel jealous heart had sinned.

Then behind he heard a shout loud and clear,
“Stop where you are if you hold life dear.”

He abruptly turned to whose face to see
none other than the father of his bride to be.

“You killed her, dam your soul to hell.”,
were the last words to his ear to hear,
then something entered front to back
simultaneously felt and heard the crack.

As his body crumpled toward the ground
he gurgled and tried to make a sound

But only in his final thoughts to be
came a silent, “It was not me, not me”.  

  

John Mullinax May 2012

Liberty and Bees

We are not like throngs of worker bees.

If it were so we'd still be living in trees. 

We weren't built to slave for all the rest.

We do things our own way, and do it best.

We have brains and are able to comprehend

that two can do more than one, yet not depend

on others to furnish our daily milk and bread,

but through mutual agreement we get ahead.

Though not their keepers, our brothers we judge

as destined with them through life to trudge.

So, to those earning our respect, near we keep;

where for the others of sloth we do not weep.

Our compassion, not a duty nor a chain to bind,

is but simple human nature, a mirror to remind

that if not for some unknown fate, there go we;

and if that be so, of him, how would he treat me? 

A Dream Too Long Held

Sometimes when engulfed in a misty daze
Hung long behind a veil, a secret hides

Comes an eerily form through blurry haze

Uncertain, yet determined, and so decides.

Now is the time ripe to be clearly seen

As though it’s long time in hiding over now

Too long abandoned, past time to cling,

When in youthful fancy, was thought to allow

Some greatness that in me would achieve,

But was set aside for daily mundane things.

Instead of earnest pursuit yet still believe

That time plenty after the present brings.

Thoughts of better opportunity it to occur,

But a year passed and more slid through

Thinking plenty of time later as it were.

To other smaller things my attention drew.

While that dream buried, long buried deep

Lay smoldering all consumed by the "now"

While to myself that aged promise to keep,

Etched even deeper the lines upon my brow.

As the days of the clock of life took place,

A crushing realization came over me.

The truth long hidden had I now to face

A smothered dream, one I did not feed.

So here sit I in the shadows of my thought

Contemplating of what worth has this brought?

Yesterday

Yesterday

Yesterday has brought us today
and alters none of what I say.
The feelings remain the same
of that there is no shame
and only hope that you see in me
the one you would have me be.

There, in an embrace we stood
and time took a breath if it could
with only a cloth between the flesh
briefly to allow our spirits enmesh.

Your warmth and softness was felt.
and even on parting it did not melt,
but lingered the day, through the night
hopeful from a mystery comes the light
that shows a path for both to find
of an inner peace, solace of mind.

John Mullinax 2009

Winds of Change

Winds of Change

My heart so loudly sings
to the feet a dance it brings.
Yet in some way restrained,
by circumstance it seems,
to be let loose and fly away
- of that are my dreams. 

Just when all seems so right,
comes a cloud dark as night.
It's shadow long and grey,
it seems to me to say,
"In me there is a change,
uneasy and all so strange."

But such a specter will not win.
Enduring through thick and thin,
so this too, I will behind me put.
With a strong heart, a willing foot,
I take a step through the door
to another place
a brighter shore.

John Mullinax (date unknown)

WARNING TO THE UNION

WARNING TO THE UNION

The president sits the throne as much as a King
and the Congress sits smugly as the king's court,
while SCOTUS in their black robes say not a thing
and the media once free, will none of this report.

The Lobbyist, to Congress whisper their need;
the schools, of liberty they no longer teach.
And no one is listening and none take heed.
Awaken! Lest freedom pass beyond our reach.

John Mullinax August 2009