Poems

O Cross, Our Only Hope


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Throw your demons on the holy fire,
Watch them kindle brightly in the flames,
See the spinning spectres scorched and scared,
Perishing with all their sordid games,

Lo, the blood of Christ, too pure, too strong,
A bludgeon to the works and wiles of hell,
A serum for the sickness in our souls,
A mirror that reflects the devil’s spell,

There! Amid the booming drums of war,
Amid the smoke plumes dancing to the sky,
The ever-gleaming diamond of the truth,
Brightening creation gone awry,

Animate the faith within your breast,
To carve the holy path towards this light,
Fall into the soul-reshaping mould,
And catch the rays of God within your sight,

Here, the heavens bend to greet your way,
The blackness standing mute in silent streams,
Kneel and pray to God with earnest words;
“Usher up the peace that fills our dreams…”


Renfield H. Bizarre, 05.10.16

The Thread Upon the Loom


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Dread blackness thrust into the dust,
Forced thither by the hand of God,
Waiting, lurking, in the earth,
Below the grass where Adam trod,

Sickly peering eyes look out,
Admiring those bright pastures fair,
With every low, impious thing,
Conjoined in one unholy glare,

Privation is the price of sin,
The loss that grinds upon the soul,
The hand that holds us muted, dumb,
The dank malaise of death’s control,

Wherein our hope? What future waits?
What ladder from the chasms bleak?
What monumental feat of man,
Describes the rapture that we seek?

The softly beaming star on high,
Aloft, beyond the cherubim,
The Christ! Undaunted in his work,
Commanding all the Nephilim,

A fellowship of powers pure,
A flock about the holy loom,
With Satan’s works, pulled on a thread,
To glory, from the nether gloom,

This cancer is a fleeting thing,
The wry mistrust that cripples men,
Hark, Gabriel! His cry is thus,
“Stand firm; the Christ will come again.”


Renfield H. Bizarre, 06.09.16

Christus Regnat


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A silken spell, knit strong by highest hands,
Holding tight the seething ball of black,
Woven to perfection, sealed by God,
Equipped to brook the deadliest attack,

Within the flowing sackcloth’s golden thread,
A travesty of demons waxing wild,
Loosing scorn and magic on that place,
Reserved for one; the steadfast holy child,

And is there aught of doubt or flinching there,
Upon that clear visage of Christ on high?
Nay, not one iota, mark ye well,
No soul shall His pre-eminence decry,

And pray, what do I see writ large anon,
While sifting through the codex of the skies?
A signature, made by the Prince of Air,
Set down by the deceitful Prince of Lies,

And where is this consent laid down you ask?
What pledge has Satan made before us all?
Confession, on the body of Our Lord,
Aye, even he, to Christ must duly crawl.


Renfield H. Bizarre, 08.08.16

Abide With Us


Abide with Us


Abide with us, oh precious child of God,
Within our vast, triumphant hall of glass,
Hung from heaven, draped, like blackest night,
The sacred veil that nothing can surpass,

Tarry not within the devil’s view,
But turn to us and know the touch of peace,
The melting of the struggle to prevail,
The succour that ensures all sorrows cease,

Find the shining spark that calls so clear,
The pulchritude that lights the astral plane,
The Holy Ghost, untrammeled and untouched,
The sacred sword that rings as sin is slain,

With this weapon livening your hand,
Hack away perdition’s foul embrace,
The sick, ignoble galleries of hell,
The vilely forming vistas of disgrace,

Aye, reach up and up and don’t look back,
Spy aloft the cherubim on high,
Heralding your place within their fold,
“Abide with us”, they whisper, as we die.


Renfield H. Bizarre, 05.06.16

Four Quarters


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Four quarters join as one,
Four faces in the dark,
The pieces gripped in unison,
The flint struck firm to light the holy spark,

Regret departs within a jot,
The faces shining true,
The mixture made, the game well played,
Ecstatic beams from heaven bolting through,

Exhaltant souls, but strangers fused,
See clearly cross the void,
The black deceiver in their midst,
His unbecoming rivalry destroyed,

Implications, implications racing through the air,
The talent overwhelming strong, the songsheet hid from view,
But what is this? Pray listen close,
The voices, plain as day, produce one song!

Michael, in a woman’s guise?
The ray of light soon carving out the tears,
The unimagined summoning,
Rising up, to mark the coming years,

The karma pulled on subtle threads,
Reeled in to make a picture of perfection,
Every detail ushered up,
And met anon with heaven’s benediction.


Renfield H. Bizarre, 10.03.16

The Holy Temple


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My temple is the light of all creation,
The brilliance of a thousand summer days,
The emanation from the holy city,
The miracles of earth within the blaze,

The tumbling tides of winter beaches churning,
The sun-embossed horizon glowing clear,
The midnight heavens spread with stars undying,
The gentle flowers growing without fear,

The orange kiss of dusk upon the mountain,
The perfect play of sunlight in the gloam,
The loveliness of God’s eternal fountain,
This I call my dwelling place, my home,

The hopeful glint of dawn light seeking sunrise,
The evanescent colours through the sky,
The dalliance of birdsong through the silence,
The innocence of life my lullaby,

The hushing breath of wind atop the forest,
The glitter of the rain upon the trees,
The harmony of heaven’s tender chorus,
This becomes my work, my expertise,

My temple is the light that knows no boundaries,
The love that conquers every tract and time,
I am the silent face of the Creator,
The splendour of a thousand suns sublime.


Dedicated to Rae, Phil, Mel, Louis, Lucia and Sophia Dunstan, in memory of Peter Francis Dunstan.

Photograph and words by Renfield H. Bizarre, 02.03.16

The Josephite Heart


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Turned to the immaculate within,
Refusing to admit the shadow soul,
Sisters banded strong in holy thought,
Relinquishing to Christ supreme control,

Days of pure devotion offered up,
Within the silence of the stony walls,
A gift of pooling stillness on the earth,
Emanating through the convent halls,

Prayers and soft devotions spoken low,
Rising to St. Joseph overhead,
Rosaries that trace the beaded string,
Worship blossoming along the thread,

Hanging there, like sunshine lost in time,
The beatitude of Mary set aglow,
Epitome of service and of grace,
Humility that only angels know,

Let your labours sing across the land,
And call us to the sacred heart of Christ,
Flood us with the love that knows no bounds,
The legacy of what He sacrificed,

Elevate us in your holy song,
Your attitude of praise a perfect art,
Build in us a heaven standing true,
Bless us with the strong Josephite Heart.


Renfield H. Bizarre, 28.02.16

 

The Dawn of Revelation


The Dawn of Revelation


Can you feel a warm glow on your right?
The ever present light of Christ ascended,
The golden temple, keeping us in grace,
The place we come to humbled, one knee bended,

Hold us in Your ever burning fire,
That heaven-tempered seat of intuition,
That place where love redoubles in its force;
The well spring that devours all inhibition,

Bravest love of all, command the skies!
Make the sign that spells the Son of Man!
The one to gather up the kings of earth,
From every tribe and tongue and every clan,

From on high reveal the face of God,
To triumph with an all-pervading view,
That casts the sly accuser into chains,
And sees the earth and heaven built anew,

Fuse our hearts and minds with Your pure will,
And help us to endure the raging Beast,
Spinning in a froth of manic rage,
As he confronts the army from the east,

Keep us from the scourge of blasphemy,
The vitriol against Your holy name,
Keep us from the plagues and snares of death,
That put our holy nature into shame,

Make the wine of Babylon run dry,
No longer to defile the lips of men,
“Babylon is fallen” shall we cry,
As we start o’er and begin again,

Let the whirlwind idols of our day,
Find redundancy against Your might,
Forgive us for exalting aught but You,
Pray relieve us in our sorry plight,

Make us see You now, just as You are,
Towering in splendour and command,
Lord of Lords, with Michael at your side,
Opening the seals that grip the land,

One by one, the riders gallop out,
Unseating death and Hades from their place,
Reigning in the demons of the pit,
Calling them to rise from their disgrace,

Fleeing millions scurry in their wake,
Searching out the shaded rocks and caves,
Hoping to avert the guilt of sin,
That cannot brook the searing light that saves,

But the star from heaven is now cast,
The trumpets sounding shrill across the air,
Seven thunders brawling on the plains,
With Adam’s sons and daughters in despair,

Sorcery of old engulfs the scene;
The ten horned dragon fleeing his disguise,
Murders and the crimes of yesteryear,
Dragged up with all the truths that we despise,

One woe is past, behold still two more come,
Scorpions that sting and bitter bread,
Men in rampant war and strife unbound,
Stricken in a panoply of dread,

But God on High, observing, flinches not,
For still the hope of mercy is alive,
The one that causes death to flee calls out,
“From the pain of loss you shall revive”,

The Alpha and Omega fuse as one,
The light of Stella Maris softly shining,
The Spirit and the bride call out in faith,
“Hark ye well, the Bridegroom, He is Coming”.


Many thanks to Ashley Hearod for encouraging me to write this, a post inspired by her recent offering “The Bridegroom is Coming“.

Renfield H. Bizarre, 22.02.16