Works

Travelogue
© July 28, 2007, Roy Stucky

I thought that the halls were constructed of stone.
They later were shown a linoleum clone.
I thought that my school was gigantic in size.
I learned that was merely some hamlet's disguise.

Each shell that I shatter when proven too small
Reveals a new world that's the biggest of all.
In time I calm down and see what's going on.
The kings of this world are in truth played by pawns.

Not so long ago,
Not so far away,
Stood a grand chateau
Made of crepe-maché.
Then it fell apart -
Happens every day.
What appears the heart
Is but strained cliché.

I thought that the sentence was simple and tame -
I later was shown there are deeps in a name.
Word's boring arrangement of commonest place
Collects the experience pool of our race.

The surface appearance is life unrefined.
Discernment sees tangles as things to unwind.
Behind what the child thought a simple affair
Are doorways and levels connected by stairs.

Facades and foundations -
Veils and keys.
Our sodden fixation's
Hide and seize.
The body frustrations -
Time's disease.
The modern formation's
Scar marquees.

A nebulous vapor disfigures our sight,
A dismal perspective that's weary of light.
The scornful are praised while the hopeful are mocked.
The flow of the fountain of wonder is blocked.

The prisons once built to keep wolves from the door
Confine their creators to Stonehenge decor.
Despair over love is replaced by mere lust.
Each lie takes a bite from the flesh of our trust.

A bulletproof peace is a tomb.
An armor plate soul is the doom
Of those who no longer feel
The world as it's known is real.
A life neither good nor obscene,
Grey heart in a land of routine.
Afraid that the deep we found
Just dribbles along the ground.

Heart of stone
Broke a bone.
Who condones
How we've flown from responsibility?
Heart of jade,
Decades fade.
Razor blade
Where we made a slash on the throat of eternity.

The screams of our past have at last withdrawn.
The dawn makes the night just a fright in a dream.
The theme of our travel unravels what's strong.
Our wrong burns away at the day star light's gleam.

The King left instructions to show us the place.
The King sent His Spirit to show us His face.
The King is returning with warrants and crowns.
The faithful will reign over cities and towns.

Retreat from the lost is a double edged fault -
A world that's been robbed of preservative salt.
It's certain this land has no shortage of hate.
The goats in the throne room pretend to be great.

The drowning will struggle and spin you around.
That's hardly a reason to watch them go down.
The servants of Love plant the seeds God will grow.
This world needs you more than you ever will know.

Love's no emotion,
Love's not a thing.
Love is alive -
Love is the King.
Love's not a fact
You can memorize.
Love has a back, a hand and a face.
His glory puts all suns to disgrace.
Love's not some force on a string.
Love is the King of all kings.

Although the mass of people
Run right past and never slow,
The wise can read the signs
Before they choose the way to go.

The standards have saluted
But still man the barricade,
The cross street is congested
By gypsies on parade.

Mistakes have been dissected
And some lessons maybe learned,
The dots have been connected
And some rivers have returned.

Eclectic isolation
Was ok when I was young,
But now I've better uses
For the power of my tongue.

Some notes about my journey
Now that I've come halfway home,
I've tried to pay attention
To the things that I've been shown.

The limits of my vision
Can be crossed in three small steps,
I hope if you have listened
That's not cost your last respect.

(intro - child sounds mingled with various transportation noises behind a nasty guitar with a slow rock bass/key/drum foundation)

Each Shell = I dropped into the big impressive world

Grand Chateau = (Much of that world proved a fraud of keeping up appearances)

Simple and Tame = (Having made the mistake of being overly impressed, I am chic bored, too sophisticated to get excited about anything. I am skeptical.)

Facades and foundations = (But in doing so I merely flipped my "easily impressed" aspect to "unresponsive". My sight is defective. I was at first blind to the fraud, then to the wonder.)

Nebulous Vapor = (Since I'd now been on both sides, and was wrong both times, I felt tricked. I went from skeptic to cynic. No one would catch me caring about anything again.)

Bulletproof Peace = (But that form of security is a form of suicide.)

Slash on the throat of eternity = (Upon which altar we kill time.)

Screams of our past = (Day comes, maturity begins. I reject as incomplete all three; the naive child, the chic sophisticate, and the cynic. That progression was the logic stream of a nightmare.)

King Left Instructions = (Jesus is the answer. Jesus is Light and Life. Jesus is authority and power. The Word is alive.)

World Needs You More = (The mission. Logan (Logan's Run) must return to the city. Thorn (Soylent Green) must spread the truth. "Secret Flame" and "Haunted by Charlie" haunt me indeed.)

Love's No Emotion = (God is Love. Love is alive.)

Mass of People = (Most people spurn admonition. The wise man allows the Lord to direct his steps.)

Standards Have Saluted = (The banner of the Lord has been raised in the midst of the culture war. The lost continue to celebrate their wandering.)

Rivers Have Returned = (I described where I went astray how I changed course to join myself to Truth's domain.)

(Do not waste half your life making the mistakes I made. I hope the tale of my journey can be of use to you.)

("Crepe-mache" is intended to depict hardened funeral paper. The nuance is that the "chateau" was in fact a sepulchre. "Stonehenge decor" is a rough stone sacrificial altar. The nuance is a return to the primitivism that needs to battle wild animals and performs human sacrifices. "Throat of eternity" is a nod to Thoreau, who wrote, 'As if you could kill time without damaging eternity.')

"But the vague revelation was now in him, that the visible world, some of which before had seemed but too common and prosaic to him; and but too intelligible; he now vaguely felt, that all the world, and every misconceivedly common and prosaic thing in it, was steeped a million fathom in a mysteriousness wholly hopeless of solution."
Herman Melville

God (forever and ever)
The Holy Bible

Herman Melville (1819-1891)
Pierre (1852)