John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many literary journals, online and in print, since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.
I am much less than those Who doff theirs chains, Break through the wall And into the uncertainty of The darkness outside the place Of our internment. I am more like those Who defy the guards, Spit invective out of our windows’ bars And struggle like worms on hooks All the way to the room Where the men with rifles are waiting To blindfold us and open fire - Putting us out of their misery, The chains rattling in their superfluousness As they fall with us to the place Of our interment.
I implored to Siddhartha Buddha And Jalad Rumi To give me their opinion About the veracity of Our love But I don’t speak Persian Or read Sanskrit And even if I did I don’t think I would have received Any response that wasn’t just conjecture. They didn’t answer anyway. Just as well. I wouldn’t understand either way.
YOU ASK ABOUT GODS
You, thinking I am learned, You ask about gods And not about people And I, not understanding the difference, Will not be able to answer you With the authority you desire. Proverbs and Ecclesiastes were written By men and maybe God’s hand, If His hand can touch us Without trembling. My own arm aches not from working But from sleeping on it wrong. Ha! I bet God’s arm, if it hurts, The pain is more palatable, More acceptable Than mine. I accept this Even if I can’t accept Him. You ask about gods And, venerating people, I tell you about God.