jamescallahansr

[jamescallahansr]

The lingering aromaof incenseis the only sensethat has penetratedthe marble andhard oak of pews,kneelers and glassstained technicolorhues of villiansdeclared holy throughacts of valorleading all to deathand fond memoryof what was forgottenby what was done. The altar squatsaffront, engraved in adead tongueonce murmured by pimplyseminarians and stillhidden todayin the mumbles ofmen always…

[jamescallahansr]

I must be a godfor my sovereign steptook pity just nowon a crawling insectjust trying to get by;which probablydidn’t even noticemy benevolenceas I lifted my footin inconvenience withmerciful deference.

[jamescallahansr]

The human race used to be a thing,in the vernacular of generic humanity,as good people tried to hold togetherlife, or way of life, or their way of life,while everything expanded and spedto a pace which just befuddled manyand then grew faster, and the fasterand bigger things became the morepeople wondered if the human racecould survive, never doubting it should,when scared parents tucked us…

[jamescallahansr]

I am a tenantbut with roots,a wandererbut with reason,a renterbut with gladness. This was not always so;the pleasureof residing nowhere long,the inconvenienceof constantly forwarding,the uncertaintyof where to lay my head. I was raised in a houseand moved just oncetaught to buy, not rent,to earn and possess,to save, store and spendonly what was saved,that credit was a debt. But somewherealong…

[jamescallahansr]

I’ve had dreams in my life,more than my fair share,and most have come true,I should be embarrassed to saybut I’m not; I’m happy for meand wish for more,so I sit up late some nights,not counting my blessingsbut dreaming up more dreamsand telling myself I can dothis too, I can, becausefor me everything dependson this, so much soit frightens me intosleepless nights whenI sit up and tell myselfI can…

[jamescallahansr]

To smile or smirkguffaw, laugh or cryharumph, snort or grimaceit’s your face and your businessyour nose, mouth and/or eyewhether at leisure or at workyou don’t need a reasonfor these facial contortionsyou don’t need a reasonfor these expression distortions The day can be greator just fine and dandymediocre to middlingly horridif the pace is sluggish or torridyou’ve permission to alter…

[jamescallahansr]

Just a tickle...

It starts as a tickle in the back of the throat,annoying, but tolerable with a lozenge or a quick swig,but then it settles in the upper back and begins to achein places you forgot about until everything fills up and empties,the colors of everything changes, energy wanes in just a few momentsand you begin to wonder where you contracted this virus,retracing steps, washing your hands although too…

[jamescallahansr]

There is a quiet softer than silence,startling and passed by uncalmin search of peace but anonymous,toil clamoring when all’s a psalm,passing moments in need of balm.

[jamescallahansr]

God bless the dust hidingunder my couch, my chair,my bed, behind my dresserand end table both solidto view and hiding decayfrom you, but I know dusthas returned and alwayswill, swept and washedaway simply to clear a wayfor carbon’s inevitableepiphany’s undoing ofall that wishes to liveand therefore must beready to die; God blessmother’s wishing to be,grandma’s praying theirown to safety and…

[jamescallahansr]

There’s an end to my road,just beyond a turn,blind but knownto no one but me,with a drop to the rightwhich leans my carriagetoward wooded darkenedwith all threateningfear of an imaginationgreater than my own,greater than a lifetime’shorrors dancing alivein its own shade,it will succumb to onlymy stupidly naive wishto find revelationinstead of mystery inall manner of sufferingbefore I reach the…

[jamescallahansr]

There, up ahead, make a turn;don’t just barrel along instead,in some determined and vaineffort that confuses what weknow and what we should learn. That by going on we’re misledwith this narrow, unbending laneracing toward the sunset we see. The turn is clear but path unclear,and isn’t that what makes it hardto be relatively free, having a will? That is what makes for fearputs us off and on our…

[jamescallahansr]

If you don’t mind, I preferto think of death quite often,to stare when beside a coffin,myself felled by life’s saboteur;contemplating this will softenwhat we all know will occur. Morbid or morose I may bebut otherwise I fell quite alive,quite emboldened to survive;for in facing death I’m free,not that mortality I’ll depriveI refuse to be death’s devotee.

[jamescallahansr]

It is no sin to be poor, sothe poor aren’t sinners becausethey are who they are; the rich,on the other hand, are moreso because they are, well,who they are because of thepoor – the logic is impenetrableif not flawed, but rich andsinful if not poor altogether.

[jamescallahansr]

You know it’s bad whenyour nightmares and you real lifeblend together;when what terrifies yourwaking hours repeatsas if on a loopin slumbersthat now lack sleep.

[jamescallahansr]

The wind whistles through decaying framesslowed by layers of paint hiding rotting pine,layer on layer, year on year, teasing draftscold against my skin, seeping into my bones,uninvited, expected; a spring sun failingit’s one assigned task of breaking through thegrime of winter with encouraging warmth,sluicing pharisaic whitewash of season’s tombcaked on unwashed panes lighter in thefocused circle…

[jamescallahansr]

It’s ponderous lumber makesthat interlude into it’s own chapter,it’s dry progress threatensthe snail’s infamous reputation;the turtle’s nameless fameis itself a Joad, mesmeric lethargy;it’s path is a migration againstthe desiccated earth – dustbowl dry. Yes passive, yes armed appliancethe witnesses are numerous and none,yes agents at first swervingthen steering a targeted shell upset;soup meat…

[jamescallahansr]

Anger is appealing,more me,or just more pleasingto methan humility. It is so much betterfor me,to be annoyed thatI’m notgentility’s debtor. So angry I will be,happily,stewing awayin mymisery of glee.