Timothy Lawton

7-2-1998

Ma’aseh Bereshit those beautiful words that are at the beginning of all creation
The being of life and host of heavens the seed and flower of all my joy
And the very root of all my sadness
Oh, if that last line could only be struck out
My poem could be one of jubilation
One of praise and without damnation
But, instead I am left to wither as the earth is left to waste
Ma’aseh Bereshit has brought forth nothing for me to lament
Then wherefore does my sadness find its root?
I will tell you where
In the heart of darkness in the breath of fire
In the Apocalypse of the world the destruction of all things
The Lord has blessed me and mankind has taken it away
The Lord has taught me and I understand why he regretted he has ever made mankind
Not that God and I don’t delight in what has been made
But, simply that we now weep for what is being done
I pray for my affliction to be lifted, but realize that I have been born to the worst of times
The seas sear and the land laments
The trees tremble and the creatures cry
Creation crumbles
The earth is angry and my countenance reveals its rage
What is good is considered evil
What is evil is considered good
All that is wrong with the world goes unnoticed
The storms strike in streams of anger ravaging all that lay in their path
Yet, man believes he has refuge in his cities a haven in his home
Security is thought to be safe in hand
The future is sure and thoroughly planned
Yet, time testifies against us we surely will reap what we have sown
We are but an iron statue with clay feet and truly we will tumble to the ground
Murderous children will grow to full sized hounds
Dogs of the devil are being raised and the land is not the only thing we have set ablaze
Passions ruled by fiery flames are fanned by the wind desire
We have chosen our Lord and bow to our sire
But, still our eyes cannot see
We are the swarm of locusts darkening the sky
Feeding on creation and cannibalized
Ma’aseh Bereshit, Barah, that which only God creates
And we, it is only we who destroy
Death is of our own making
The clay is of our own shaping
And we have thrown the whole world into the kiln, but we can’t feel the flames
I see in frustration and know in disbelief
I can’t stand the fire or get used to the heat
Dear God, dear God when again will you speak the words
Ma’aseh Bereshit

11/16/1996
Civilization you beast of a word
Calculated barbarism
A monster with a mind
Your teeth have been forgotten
Your claws are misunderstood
Again you are a gentleman
Again we hear the calls of the strong should survive
To the weak let them slither and writhe
They are a cancer on your fair body
A tear in your ceremonial uniform
And most of all civilization you have learned how not to appear a beast
No, you will come again as a lamb
A lamb in statesman’s clothing
I don’t know your name, but I talk about you every day
I don’t know your face, yet I’ve seen your hands shaping the world for sometime
And I’ll know who you are if I see you
You will be revered as the essence of civilization
The one with the ideal
The mind of the monster plan
Your teeth will be seen as pearls
And your claws will be concealed
You will be made the leader
The strong will be of the future
Disciplined and erudite
The weak will be of the past
Superstitious and deserving to die
The cancer of spiritual conscience in your material world
Where the beast is seen as a statesman
And a monster made of the lamb

12/30/1997

Locks of red luster glisten in the sun
Betraying the beauty of the one I love
A smile that springs from the depth of your soul
Revealing her to my heart which she completely stole
To be captured in your embrace no words would dare
Dreaming of your sweet caress to which nothing compares
My heavenly companion from earth’s end to end
My strength, my compassion, my dearest friend
To make God my life you’ve taught me to never forget
In this world of darkness you’re a son that never sets
You are light, you are love, a masterpiece of art
I am transfixed by what you do, what you say, and who you are
There are no words that can express my love for thee
Like dawn or the wind, your spirit is beyond poetry

8/20/2000

Money
Have I fallen for you too?
Or is it that everything just seems to have a price
Shackle, chain, weight
Binding, holding, burdening
Industry is business ( bizeeness)
Work is a means of survival
Money
Money so I can eat
Money so I can move
Money so I can watch
Money so I can dress
Money so I can stay warm
Money so I can talk
Money so I can make money
Money
Have I fallen for you too?
Or, is it you just taint the air around me
Infesting our thoughts and polluting our actions
Industriousness is busy
And none of us have enough time to unwind
Or even slow down for one minute from Hyper- Maximum- Super- Overdrive
Money
Have I fallen for you too?

8/20/2000

I feel moved by the spirit, but don’t know where
Foolish confusion and ridiculous despair
Yet, I’m not fool enough to believe I’m fine
Or, that I can figure a way out
So, the easy answer is to say that you leave it up to God
The hard part is allowing that to happen
If I fail to question my faith is it lost?
If I fail to think all evil emanates from me, have I sinned?
I feel moved by the spirit, but I can’t discern the wind
Isolated in a crowd eyes whipping all about
Is it me or is it them?
I shouldn’t feel this way again and again