Writings by Henry Coston Vaughn

#2
Kept the faith
Through all
Your emphatic
Nonsense
Drenched
Enclosures
Molded from
Image high

Fought tooth
and nail
To keep the mind
Unbound by
All those subtle
Stupid, Pretty
Lies

From
Mouth to mouth
Eye to eye
On the screen
Into our lives
They creep
And then we
Sleep the
Sleepless
Sleep
Of minds
Barred from
Travel
Deep

And the voices
We love turn round
And spit the paltry
Putrid sound
Of judgement
Made from
Image
High
Manufactured
Lies

And here the
Trial of our lives
So early in our
Minds
"What are the
Sea of voices
To my One?"

To doubt the
Doubt and
Suffer
But never
Leave the
Oceanic
Dream
Behind the
Seems

To be a mind
Just waking
To its own
Enchantment
And knowing
Not
Where or What
And suffer
The slurring
Of their Buts
Drowning
In the
Tepid waters
Of that
Oh so
Familiar
Stream
While still
The peripheral
Tributaric gleam
Haunts their
Weighted
Dreams

To keep the
Faith
To keep the
Self
With no
Contrived defense
But vague
Knowledge
Of Who
From whence
And so
The Flame
Has kindled
Hence

They mock
And knock
The spirit
Down
The weaklings
Sold
In youth
Unto Image
High's untruth
"Divide,
Divide,
This one
Into a farther
Room."
Where he
May doubt
In unmarked
Tombs--
Mother Culture
Spoke
He was not
One of Us

And so
In youth
I crept into
Farther room's
Despair
But held my
Kindled flame
Stripped Bare
Defending
Light
Up through
The trial
And All
Was
Watching
Through
The Dark
The Stilled beatings
Of my heart
That I
Might
Keep the faith
And so
I did

And so you
See before you
Nothing special
But Divine
Inspired
Potential
For having
Kept the Faith