Tim Graham’s Poems

Storm the fortress!
Tear down the walls!!
Set the flames
Destroy it all
Let the battle rage
Fight! Fight!!
Thru the day
Into the night
Til victory is yours
Or til you fall
Storm the fortress!
Tear down the walls!!

fear is fire’s cousin;
a servant good,
a master cruel.
fear is fire’s cousin;
a master only,
given fuel.

fear is fire’s cousin;
a servant good,
a master cruel.
fear is fire’s cousin;
a servant only,
given rule.

fear is fire’s cousin;
an opportunity,
for renewal.

Where is the love in a man,
whose own spark he smothers?
Where is the love in a man,
who guards his own but forsakes a brother’s?
For the spark of love to truly burn in a man,
he must tend the fire in the hearts of others.

in silent reverie
your hand takes mine
my wrist submits
fingers entwined

an act, not of transmission
but of setting free
some call this love
some call it ki

it’s light shines clear
across the divide
too deep and too narrow
to walk with a guide

thank you teacher
for this path to take
release my hand
i’m wide awake.

is it selfish of us to mourn
the souls who wake to Heaven’s dawn
eternal day follows mortal night
freed from fear by loving light
i will rejoice this blessed morn
with the souls who wake to Heaven’s dawn

The Eagle soars, then comes to rest,
atop an impossible tower.
The Eagle soars from the seat of Power.

The Owl watches, patiently perched,
atop a moonlit roof.
The Owl watches from the seat of Truth.

The Lark sings, a melody made,
atop the clouds above.
The Lark sings from the seat of Love.

To be a bird!
To be all three!!!
With enough Love,
to find the Truth and Power in me.

On this grim day
As I walked alone,
Through the graveyard,
Stone by stone
I read the epitaph
Of a name unknown;

“You with life, go live! go love!
For you’ll join us here soon enough.”

So inspired by
The silent stone
I shall live and love
In the time I’m loaned
Until one grim day,
I’ll have those words
Inscribed upon my own.

Monday i was melancholy
with no good reason why

Tuesday i was taken
trucked away, terrified

Wednesday was spent waiting
in a crowded pen, putrified

Thursday-Bloody-Thursday i was slaughtered
it was murder mechanised
my life ripped right from me
amid ten thousand others’ cries

factory Friday we were dismembered
sorted into so many breasts and thighs
measured and discarded
if considered undersized

Saturday my flesh was served up
half nuggets, half secret recipe
to hordes of hungry humans
in suburban KFC’s

Sunday i sat, with chicken-god in chicken-heaven
with chicken-tears in chicken-eyes
as ten thousand unsuspecting others
began their awful journey;

to be fried.