The Poetry Of Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Completely

Four hands that come together

While four lips press,

Then push away for never,

But cling and press.

Four eyes of intermixing

With love full caught

In laughter all bewitching

Of light-heart thought.

Four ears that hear the gladness

A-gasp so fair

Of joy that's almost madness

To breathe one there

Who's selfish as one's self is

To have and hold

The meaning of what wealth is

When life is bold.

Four minutes, then four hours,

Four days turned years,

Forever are love's powers

Beyond all fears.

For two who love two truly,

As one loves one,

Complete each day completely

With night-time sun.

[B. Royce 0]

Poet to Inventor

To delight in the brightness of light

As it catches hard metal and gleams,

When man's competence wrought it just right

As it leaped in his thought out of dreams,

Is to love the inventor's first ways

And the hardness of difficult acts

When he gives an idea his praise

By objectively biding by facts.

And the praise of the poet is strong

For the man independent, alive,

Who is making the world a song

While his winged curiosities thrive

In the ardor of theories so new

He can sleep for an hour, not more,

But is ready to stand and to do

Something different than he's done before!

[B. Royce 0]

Let's Be Altruistic

Oh, let's be altruistic and give up our pay

To all who are standing for handouts today!

The self has no meaning, the ego is ill,

We'll give all we've got to whomever we will.

Poor people are coming, and it isn't fair

That we should keep something and not even share.

True livers are givers and givers give life

Till dead they lie peaceful, without any strife.

The end of all giving and living is one---

To end up with nothing, toasted and done.

Let's be altruistic, for self is a sham,

And the meaning of life is to not care a damn

'Bout any old purpose, or happiness, pride,

Or joy of our being that we would decide.

For others, all others, all others mean more

Than all that we've worked for and all we adore.

The fact that they've nothing is proof of their worth;

The fact that we've something is proof of bad birth.

The fact that we've struggled, and saved, and have wealth,

Is proof that in spirit we've not any health.

The fact that we've made this great country so free

Is proof we have reason no longer to be.

And that we've great cities, with skyscrapers high,

Is proof we must sacrifice, give up and die.

For we are the bad ones, the worst upon earth,

Who think us the good ones who work to be first.

Let's be altruistic, surrender all goals,

And save us by giving up bodies and souls!

We'll save us in graves while those others go on

And live for themselves till all freebees are gone!

_______________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Struck (inspired by Brittney Fay Rivera)

Sunlight on your hair of gold

Marks you there: This fair behold.

Love of light that sparks your eyes

Tells aright: This fair is wise.

Light of lip and brow and cheek

Sunrise gives to all who seek.

Altogether all things fair

Sing the height of open air,

Wid'ning skies, freest space,

Matched by your triumphant face---

Face of beauty living right,

Guided by your selfish sight---

Selfish sight and selfish mind,

Oh what mine do we here find!

Mine of riches glowing gold,

Mined for action true and bold---

Bold to sit on boldest horse,

Galloping in joy the course

You have set with tight'ning rein,

Loosed again to strike, and gain!

How we marvel you can be

Here the sunshine we can see,

Of such confidence so rare

There is nothing half so fair

That for song's sake, yea, for rhyme's,

We are glad we're in these times!

Though the world so dusky seems

Struck we are by your high beams.

__________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Atlantean Heights

May Phil/Amanda, uniting two in one,

With happy eyes on bright new day---their son,

En-gold with gladness, and with high-light cheers,

The daily trophies of triumphant years.

Fate's waves do rise before them, but they rise, too,

To sail their freest, open best, and brave on through.

With mental wheels spinning, and keenest youth beside,

May vent'rous days be one long glorious ride

To seek Atlantis' shores, yet be Atlantean heights,

Themselves the living proof their own dear love ignites.

And may they walk in peace in some afar fair place,

Or climb somewhere---a threesome---to some mountain's peak

Where all below is shining like their son's bare face,

Which glorifies the beauty of the life they seek.

_______________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Ideal You

If I could paint a beauty-hue to magnify the sky,

'T would be the blue of very you that's in your eye.

If I could paint a glorious sun a more glowing golden gold,

'T would be you hair of yellow flame too untame to hold.

If I an apple sweet could paint of luscious reddest red,

For which love's lips did crush the air, as though they fed,

'T would be---Oh, need I say it now, since you must know?

You are the model final, the highest work and show!

The critic is but me, who writes his poems of praise

To magnify in music of melodious rays

His dream-beams seeking, sighting you ere he

Became in words the worshipper of life so free!

More free than beauty's being, more than cloudless blue,

No sweep of painter's brush can touch ideal you.

____________________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

The Glory of...

In the radiant rise of the sun as it blooms in its highway of blue,

So the lift of your face in your rising is a wonder that only is you,

A wonder and splendor of being that I am delighting to see

As waking I turn from our pillow to see all your lovelight on me.

And a shaft of the sun is as laughter that lays on your shoulders so bright

That I am struck deep by your beauty much more than our music all night.

From your eyes, in torn clouds of your hair now, love's starlights still shine with their fire;

From your head tilted back in its triumph you know I am swoln with desire,

And as sunlight strikes down on the bed here---a gold-molded throne and a shrine--

You leap through the space that divides us where springs sing the glory of "Mine!"

What's a room, but a place for our passion? What's a door, but our privacy locked,

With the wall-enclosed profit high honoring we with kisses well stocked?

We've delivered our trust in each other, and our contract is wrought in our word;

We have signed with embraces that smother till only sharp breathing is heard.

We've not given, but taken each other, and are equally rich in our greed

As the vaults of our minds, overflowing, become sunlight and joylight decreed.

In the grand inventory of greatness, in the totals of tributes that climb,

We arrive beyond all estimation to sums that are wonders sublime,

Till the floor of this house is a-tremble with rapturous joy of our love,

And the sun, moving over our bodies, seems beaming more brightly above!

______________________________________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Contact

When the strength of rejoicing is in thee

For the love of thy life upon earth,

When thy breath is emboldened to sing thee

All the words of high songs of thy worth,

And thy hands are in fists of proud power,

Proclaiming thy work that's well-done,

And thou standeth a sturdy strong tower

To hold in the joy of thy sun,

Then, alone with the light of thy passion,

As a flame in the desert at night,

With a star as a single reflection

Of all thy grand gladness and height,

Give thee praise to first beauty of being

That began in one flicker of light

When reality, caught by thy seeing,

Gave in friendliness all of its might.

________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

New Life

This nippy morning air has bit your cheeks;

They glow so loud with your new life that I

Am eyes-all-eyes for hearing. Nothing speaks

So cleanly clear as wint'ry sun in sky,

And as your joy-light circles me around

I twist a mild typhoon, without a sound,

The while my laughing heart beats hard and swift

Till breathless breath engulfs me with your gift.

You speak, and I see flower-tips of lips

Bloom in the air; so ringing waves your hair

That I am struck like bells, that bells eclipse,

Yet somehow do I stand, as you go----there

(You have another job and will be great,

While all day long I think and write and wait).

Again you speak---my name! With soft goodbyes

I follow singing flames of your proud eyes!

____________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Homeward (a story in five sonnets)

They hold you captive---rational egoist,

But more than this--my dearest living flame,

Proud altar, fair clean shrine I've not yet kissed;

Only dances through my soul your name

Until it twirls into my true life's sum,

Not added on, but mingling with my bliss

That I at last should find a height like this.

Integrity---a name to strike men dumb

Who fear its force, and see it in your eyes.

So I have sent a message I'd devise

To steal you away before they slay

What they should kneel to. Just one more day,

But time enough to cancel wicked crime.

And now, oh Hope, oh Trust, it is that time.

_______________________________________

So soft and low upon the silent night

I spoke your name, I knew in me a doubt

That in your window you would hear, so slight

My flight-stake hymn---a light blown swiftly out,

A star-flash cover-cowled with cloud. And then

The sentry moved, with clash of metal gear

Abrupt, and I, frozen, held my breath

(Oh, how I longed to lead him unto death!).

Then off he clanked, that luckiest of men,

While I in shadow knelt, your lips to hear.

And then it came! So sweet, so sweet a "Yes!"

And climbing out came all my happiness!

Now hands clutch hands and we're already gone

To 'scape this devil fortress for the dawn!

____________________________________________

Noised confusion rumbles in the air,

Grows loud to left, dies off and goes to right.

Drums beat, frantic shouts are there,

Fiends circling round with torches, half in fright.

We swiftly run our straight and secret way,

Leaping stone to stone down middle creek;

Soothe, then, our feet awhile within the stream,

Yet plashing ever closer to the bay

Where hidden lies that freedom-boat we seek.

'Tis here! My Ragnar-plan, it was no dream!

Push off! Set sail! Integrity's alive!

The wind is for us! Yea, my love, we're free!

Out far to isles of happiness we'll strive

And make the best of everything we be!

_______________________________________

Sitting with you in this fragile boat

Into my mem'ry's mind the pictures float---

Of you, standing straight to meet your fate,

Spitting in their leader's hatred-face

When "Down!" he shouted, "for Islam's grace!"

Glittered the sword he swung high up in air,

But glittered more your eyes, that held it there.

He laughed, and said you would be stoned to death.

I looked on silent as I held my breath.

I saw you in your room alone that night

With face serene, as far you seemed to see

The beauty of what life was meant to be

(I could not bare to wait to make it right).

But now we're here, and fate has met its fate.

_________________________________________

The high waves swell and rise and glide on past,

The high winds fill and push and scream and roar.

We are in front, the leaders of the blast

That seeks to set us new on some strange shore!

Now stars are fainting out, the sun's at rim,

This whole majestic sea now glitters bright!

This world's ours, and we are its high hymn,

With choiring seagulls adding keen delight!

Lo! Arising from the waves---that emerald gleam!

A cliff, a hill, a mountain, high and wide!

On through this rugged coral reef we'll stream

Till we are standing in our happy pride!

First footprints---ours, first spark, first fire;

Oh love, we make our mark with our desire!

This lovely mountain isle, harsh reef, wild foam---

It's here we'll write our songs and make our home.

___________________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

I Took Your Breath...

I took your breath into my mouth

And all my soul went south;

Now in warm lands of circled arms

I stand and feel your charms.

I'm traveling nowhere but right here

To hear your whisper clear,

That tells me you have all my will

To hold me hard and still.

And yet, you cannot get you free,

If ever you might try;

For your will, too, is all of me

Until the day I die!

_________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Hymn of Man

For all this time since human life began

With glowing rhyme we praise the mind of man.

His thought appears through all he steers,

His works are sharp and bold;

He plows the lands on which he stands,

The seas are in his hold.

The plain he takes, the mountain breaks,

His engines roar on through;

In outer space he weaves a trace

Of all he means to do!

Then give him praise for all his ways

And sing so loud and strong

Your very ears will be amazed

That pride has such a song!

Then glory, glory, glory sing!

Send hallelujahs high!

Give mind and soul your sovereign wing

And top off man with "I"!

Your thought comes through in all you do,

Ability, it grows;

When loyalty is first to you

Your independence shows.

Your honesty in loving truth,

Integrity in act,

Keeps joy upon the rail of youth,

A-gleam with dreams of fact!

There's no detour when you are pure,

No senseless, selfless shoal,

But you're the master on that shore

Of ego's golden goal!

Then glory, glory, glory sing!

Send hallelujahs high!

Give mind and soul your sovereign wing

And top off man with "I"!

The human race is in first place,

The gods are going down!

The altruist is just a fist

That beats a thorny crown.

The love of man, which man began,

Is tow'ring over hate;

And reason's good is very good,

A-shatt'ring shears of fate!

We rise and stand on every hand,

Our fearless faces shine;

We claim the flame of selfish fame

With name of one word---"Mine!"

Then glory, glory, glory sing!

Send hallelujahs high!

Give mind and soul your sovereign wing

And top off man with "I"!

[B. Royce 0]

The Happy Singer

When O's of silence steal on your ear

And round you turn, but naught is all you hear;

When wind is nil, and nothing nothings sigh

And all the world is darkness where you lie;

Then 'magine me a-struggling with my pen

To make a song of light for loving men!

My brain now builds a pyramid of song

As note on swelling note I point and pile;

Becomes a tower ringing high and strong,

Then rocketship sky-glancing with a smile.

At last I fuel my wonder-work with flame---

The lightning-flower hymn of your fair name!

Let soaring song now gratify your ears,

Then see the happy singer---who appears!

______________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Lasting Youth

Your outward beauty has not held, my dear,

But what is in makes outside disappear.

More wrinkles line your cheeks, time takes its toll,

But age can run no ripples through your soul.

Your hair is gray as twilight come our way

With fogs and shadows bringing on the night,

Yet your sweet smile shines brighter than the day

And lends to those who see a loving light.

Your back is bent a little, but none care,

For you are full awake in your straight chair

Observing all, and judging every speech,

And telling words of wisdom while you teach.

We see a form that's changed to outward view,

Yet such a girl of lasting youth are you.

______________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

The Glory of...

In the radiant rise of the sun as it blooms on the highway of blue,

So the lift of your face in your rising is a wonder that only is you---

A wonder and splendor of being that I am delighting to see

As, waking, I turn from our pillow to see all your love-light on me.

And a shaft of the sun is as laughter that lays on your shoulders so bright

That I am struck deep by your beauty much more than our music all night.

From your eyes, in torn clouds of your hair now, love's star-lights still shine with their fire;

From your head tilted back in its triumph you know I am swoln with desire,

And as sunlight strikes down on the bed here, a gold-molded throne and a shrine,

You leap through the space that divides us where springs sing the glory of "Mine!"

What's a room, but a place for our passion? What's a door, but our privacy locked,

With the wall-enclosed profit high honoring us with kisses well stocked?

We've delivered our trust in each other, and our contract is wrought in our word;

We have signed with embraces that smother till only sharp breathing is heard.

We've not given, but taken each other, and grow equally rich in our greed

Till the vaults of our minds, overflowing, are as sunlight and joy-light decreed.

In the grand inventory of greatness, in the totals of tributes that climb,

We arrive beyond all estimation to sums that are wonders sublime,

Till the floor of this house is a-tremble with rapturous joy of our love,

And the sun, moving over our bodies, is beaming more brightly above.

_______________________________________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

The Poet and The Statue

If I, as bird, did fly around your waterfall

Of silver-shining hair to see your twinkling eyes

And stopped, a-hover there, so much amazed with all

The wrink'less beauty of a splendid lover, oh,

Would I not sing such piercing songs into the skies

That gath'ring clouds would get them fast and far away,

And winds, that moved so dull before, would blow and blow,

And fill with big bloom odors all the wilding air

Until you breathed, and turned, and stretched like bursting May?

Then, awed, I'd sit a waving branch and watch you there,

Like ship upon the waters, up and down, in bliss

To sight the isle of happiness for which it's bound.

And now, with flutt'ring pulse for perfect, twirling 'round,

I 'magine me a bee to buzz your lips and kiss!

Oh, what better power than poet's power like this?

_____________________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

My Own Place

In the luminous light of a happy man's brow

Is that pride of his being that lifts me to bow,

For it's not upon knees, but in spirit of praise

I am up to admire the strength of his ways---

His strong greatness in gathering work to his hand

For the joy of high daring his will does command.

The true lights of his eyes are not stars in the skies

That are ever in midnight or dawn to be found,

But are earthly, intense, with above common sense,

And held taut with ideas, in motion, unbound---

A new energy, giant, that jumps into fire

For a weld to the willing of one man's desire!

In the glory of gladness engirding his face

Do I gaze on my future and find my own place.

My own place is the daylight of thinkers who dream;

My dear home is the sound of my many-stringed lyre,

And I send out a song on a life-giving stream

That is melody made of all human desire.

I am off on a note to the highlands of hope,

Where the true and the possible play;

Where never is heard the poor word of a pope

And the mind is not cloudy all day.

And the range of my song for the good and the strong

Goes from courage and laughter and light

To integrity's wings, that fling wide when man sings

Of his glory in going so right!

My own place is the greatness of men when they know

That the banner of judgment must never hang low!

________________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Columbus, Seen

Columbus, seen,

Looked at the Queen

And gave his winning speech.

Said he would go

Where no man know

And bring the all in reach.

Most men did doubt,

And shouted out

That he was well-nigh mad,

And monsters dread

Would seize him, dead,

Who foolishly waxed glad.

Columbus sailed,

Fearfulness failed;

His calmness drew men on;

The "fall off ball"

He deemed a flaw,

His judgment was men's dawn.

Columbus, soaring

Past the scorn

Of they who love to hate,

Alumnus bright

Of summer light,

Superior to fate,

I praise your pride

That, un-denied,

The earth with truth did crown.

Your careful thought,

In daring wrought,

Has brought us all around!

__________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

One Life

As the end of my being is the joy of my giving

That all that is in to the whole that is me,

As expressed in the something that barely passed nothing

Until I had lifted and loved and set free,

With the mark of my thinking and passion upon it

That makes full immortal, yet timeless my time,

So my all days are one day, and more is not needed,

For nothing's more high than creation sublime.

I live life with my fire, longevity scorn;

What is better than being the reason I'm born?

And to know there's an end day, a last day, a death,

Gives a meaning and purpose to every live breath,

A magnificent present that only life gives

In the moment of moments when joyous pride lives,

Where the world and its everything is only so great

As it loyally leads to my glorious state.

For mine is the Heaven of Selfdom, the throne of mankind,

In the height I have chosen and captured, alone with my mind!

__________________________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

My Life, My Will (Inspired by Brittany Maynard, who has received a death sentence from brain cancer, and who has moved to Oregon where she can have doctor assisted suicide)

I'm terminally ill,

Yet while I live

By my free will

My life I'll take

Before my voice

Hears not my choice

And on I live

A bound mistake.

To vegetate

Won't be my state,---

A mindless thing

Without an "I":,

A bit of flesh

That cannot sing,

But only stare

With dull, blank eye.

I'll terminate

The date of fate

And with my will

Be joyous still

Till my last breath

By my own hand

Is my live death

At my command.

Don't pity me

That my life's short;

Don't argue I

Must not abort.

Above all gods

Or social claim

My mind is mine,

My sacred flame,

And I'll be I

Until I die,

A selfish height

Of mortal might

Whose large last act

Will be that fact

That leaves no doubt

That I'm gone out.

My friends, be glad;

Oh Love, not sad;

Be proud of me

Who lived so free

That I could choose

To win my way

Of full alive

On my last day!

_________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Thanksgiving Day Blessings

High praise to producers I'm singing today,

High praise for their courses they steadily stay---

Who fashion the fine things by which I do live

And set out to trade and, no, never to give.

Great praise to their effort and thoughtful good sense,

Sure-guided by judgment of hard evidence,

With firm moral strength to do everything right

And push themselves upward to profit's glad height.

My high praise, my great praise, so true in me, strong,

Fills all of my being, bursts out in pure song!

Straight-shooting producers, now stand you up proud,

Receive my life's blessings with heads all unbowed!

__________________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

On Thanksgiving Day

On Thanksgiving Day let all glad men profess

To be thankful for happiest happiness,

To be thankful to that which comes from high pride

To he who has welcomed bright day at his side.

The free air of honesty, fresh and sincere,

The sunshine of actions led open and clear,

The blazed independence of pathways new made

For dreams of the spirit that dares, unafraid---

Yes, these are the virtues that lift happiness

To light up the eyes with a loving caress,

A touch of the glory-of-being on they

Who straddle the barriers placed in their way,

That flows as a blessing on ends just begun,

On those who began them and those have won,

That sees each creator as brother and friend

And celebrates all who strive on without end.

This happiest happiness, it must be earned,

And Thanksgiving Day is for they who have learned

That heights of production are glad hills to climb

No matter if knolls or iced mountains sublime!

____________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

A Giant Laugh

The sun had broke with all his might

Out of a mount'nous cloud;

The spires of man he did ignite

With gleaming gold so proud.

Each city on the eastern coat

Blazed forth a fiery fount,

While working people stood to boast,

"Our works are works that count!"

Then stormy clouds again rolled back;

Dread darkness stunned the day,

Till lights of man made their attack

And all did shout "Hooray!"

Again the sun so strongly shone,

Thickened again the storm,

While through it all some stood alone,

Laughing to see the norm.

A giant laugh for cloud and sun,

A giant laugh for man;

A laugh of joy for all to come

Since man's great work began!

_________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Midas Day Boom

Now Midas Day swings round again

With cheering might for happy men.

The bells and smells of Midas-time

Now steer the year's beginning/end

When presents will present their joys

For laughing children, girls and boys,

And all will hear glad Midas' noise

All over this glad town!

Each Midas tree is standing bright

With dangling jewels and sparkling light;

Each Midas sign--the dollar sign---

Is glowing gold with luster fine;

And each live Midas song rings free

With happiness that loves to be

For year-long thriving industry

All over this glad town!

The hills are smacked, the oil fracked,

The profits are paid out and stacked.

Each oil man's un-foiled grin

Declares a king of single win,

And all together strut with pride

Through stores with toys on every side

For nephew, baby, new-made bride,

All over this glad town!

Aroma of the turkey roast,

Aroma of the dark green pine,

Aromas past of mastery's sweat

On persevering faces set,

Combine in mind the hearty boast

That "What I've made is truly mine

And Midas Day is my own get,

All over this glad town!"

___________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Young Children's Poems

Winds a-blowing, huff and puff!

Took my hat; I said, "Enough!"

Winds are deaf and winds are dumb;

Now I'm running more than some!

Hat in pocket, glad I stand.

Wind has such a soft light hand

My hand was a thing so strong

I will sing the whole day long!

__________________________________

Orange for breakfast, orange for lunch,

Orange for dinner---oh, too much!

I'll be orange before you know,

Lips and nose and chin a-glow!

_____________________________________

Only Me

The snow outside was very deep,

As if the world was fast asleep.

Nothing moved and nothing stirred;

There was no song of happy bird.

The wind was still, the drifts were high;

My house had one un-covered eye,

And from my attic I could see

There was only, only me.

______________________________________

The Ant

I saw an ant a-working hard,

But never heard it pant.

Did not complain of sun or rain;

It never said, "I can't".

It lifted trees and boulders high,

It carried to and fro;

It never said to Nature, "No,

I'll not your strength defy."

For it keeps working very hard,

And never says "I can't".

Does not complain of sun or rain,

This glorious tiny ant.

__________________________________

My Friends

Blows the wind,

But not the sun;

Stars twinkle,

But not the wind.

I can see,

But not the clouds;

Close my eyes,

I still can run.

Branches bend,

Rocks do not;

Neither boils

In the pot.

Wind and trees

Sway together;

I swing stones,

They're my friends.

Dogs don't twinkle,

Cats don't blow;

Horses boil---

Oh no, no, no!

Girls can skip,

And so can stones;

But girls are much

Too big to throw!

_____________________________

Blades of grass are sweet to kiss,

But to eat I'd rather miss.

Roses, too, are nice to touch,

But I'd rather ice for lunch.

__________________________________

Butterflies have flown away;

Only snowflakes come to play.

I can catch them---see! Right here!

In my hand a little tear.

_____________________________________

Brian Faulkner