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Human A
weaving of words

Part the II

By:
Caleb Alan Kestner
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Human A
weaving of words

Part the II

By:
Caleb Alan Kestner
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Copyright © 2009 by Caleb Kestner.

All Rights Reserved.

(I make no claim to the illustrations; they are in no way my creation, unless otherwise
noted. If you happen to know the author of one of the pictures listed, as anonymous,
please let me know so I can give them proper credit.)

2nd Story Press

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Printed in the United States

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This book is dedicated to my Mom

Who gave me words.
Thank you.
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Contents
iiiiiiXIV. Exist
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~12

iiiiiiiXV. Beautiful Accident

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~15

iiiiiiXVI. Stars
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~16

iiiiiXVII. Symphonic
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~19

iiiiXVIII. Floating Castles

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~20

iiiiiiXIX. Questions
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~21

iiiiiiiXX. Ode to a Napkin

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~22

iiiiiiXXI. Ode to a Pencil

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~23

iiiiiXXII. Ode to a Lally

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~24

iiiiXXIII. Paper Cut

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~27

iiiiXXIV. edeturs Pleaze Skip Theis Pome!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~28

iiiiiXXV. Human
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~31

iiiiXXVI. Hubris
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~32
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Illustrations

Exploding Clock ~ Salvador Dali 13

Baby ~ Anonymous 14

Stars ~ Hubble Telescope 17

Hagia Sophia ~ Anonymous 18

Clouds ~ Commons 20

Question Mark ~ Anonymous 21

Paper Napkin Skull 2 ~ skulladay.com 22

Pencil ~PJH 23

Natalie/Lincoln ~ Mary Kestner 25

Domesday Book ~ Andrew Williams 26

Old Grammar Book ~ Anonymous 29

Vitruvian Man ~ Leonardo da Vinci 30

The Confusion of Tongues ~ Gustave

Dore 33
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“It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.”

Lewis Carroll
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Exist

I’m sitting here within a class with nothing left to do

There’s twenty minutes left before this misery is through
I’m buying words to spend the time that I don’t want to wait
A woven web of moments that are written on my fate
The paper shifts and crinkles as my pencil wears away
It’s markings span the eons of this slowly moving day
And now ten minutes have gone by; I’m only halfway there
The clock spins down to just five left between my frequent stares
At last the class is over and I’m finally free to go
But I have no ride or transport so I still cannot go home
And so to end this tragic tale I’ll leave you all with this
The worst of ways to spend your days is simply to exist
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Beautiful Accident

Beautiful accident, perfect mistake

Cruel twists of life that a better life make

Moments of madness that if given time

Smooth out their wrinkles and measure their rhyme

Heartbroken sadness, purest of pains

Life falls apart but the choice still remains

Will you accept it? Or toss it away?

Lifetimes of moments are hinged on a day

Life unexpected, death now decide

To accept what you've broken, or break what you hide

Greatest of treasurers, tragically won

Webs of existence yet to be spun

Two hearts in rhythm, two lives entwined

Brilliance unwanted that's blinding your mind

Sad for the moment, or sad evermore?

Choices are littered like shells on the shore

Will life take life in an effort to live?

What right's the greater, to take or to give?

Beautiful accident, perfect mistake

The whole world is moved by the path of its wake
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Stars
Illumination, light let be

All that is, is due to thee

Violent spectrum, color roars

Breaking waves on cosmic shores

Fire flies with blazing wings

Life and heat its brilliance brings

Across the vaults of heaven ride

On paths from which no dark can hide

Suns of thunder, worlds of light

Swirling spheres in black of night

The engines of both space and time

The clockwork of existence's rhyme

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Symphonic

Sifting sound in semblance seem a million things or more

The songs of long lost ages crash like fists a upon a door

Music floats through vaulting hauls and spins through shining air

Tendrils flowing gently down like strands of golden hair

Orchestras a thousand strong or wandering minstrels few

From might oaks of silence symphonies of songs do hew

Stirring fast emotions that before would barely turn

Teaching lessons never taught to those who could not learn

The chorus of the rustling leaves the music of the snow

The gurgles of a bubbling brook that sing as well as flow

Music’s simple majesty, the beauty of a tune

Moments if to late begun may also end too soon

Hearing’s not the greatest sense but still the most enjoyed

Providing that the sounds they sense are properly employed

Music makes complete the heart and sound fulfills the soul

Sight may paint the picture but its sound that makes it whole
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Floating Castles

Floating castles drift on high

Weightless mountains brush the sky
Cool blue ether shifts and swirls
Misty landscape twists and curls
Kingdoms form and fade away
A thousand times in every day
Dragons spawn in every storm
Spitting lightning as they’re born
Angels coast in regal pride
Painting sunsets as they glide
The vastness of it overwhelms
The awe inspired by its realms
To think that seas themselves could fly
Or fall in specks to small to spy
That a thing so great could be so small
To rises so high to merely fall
That a simple vapor in the air
Could cause the darkest heart to care
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Questions

A sleep deprived mongoose once wondered a thought

A quick postulation capriciously caught
"Is sleep for the dreaming? Or dreaming the sleep?"
"If I look through a peephole does that make me a peep?"
"Is the sky up above us? Or the earth down below?"
"If your audience is blind can you still have a show?"
"If you smell what you eat can you eat what you smell?"
"If a water-hole's sick. Can it still be a well?"
"If strikers are struck is it just retribution?"
"If you contribute no help is it still contribution?"
These questions were heavy. Too hard to endure.
So he went to a friend and he gave them to her
Ah ha she responded you look quite confused
Me thinks that to much you have recently mused
But answer I will (to the best that I‘m able)
Now please be attentive (don’t chew on the table)
Yes, no, could be, I just couldn’t say
No, perhaps, maybe, it might work that way
I hope I have cleared all the questions you raised
That I’ve answer the musings that had you so dazed
Now if you don’t mind friend I really must go
There are so many others who need what I know
And as she walked off with her confident stride
The mongoose just chuckled then sat back and sighed
I may be confounded confused and confuddled
But at least I admit when I know that I’m muddled
I’d rather ask questions though answers I’ve none
Then pretend that I’ve solved them and prove that I’m dumb
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Ode to a Napkin
Napkin lying on the wood
Once quite useful now no good
Your life so short now ripped away
A tragic ending to the day
Shamefully I am accused of tearing you apart
And Josh in laying on this blame has torn'n up my heart
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Ode to a Pencil

Pencil, pencil on the ground

Lying there without a sound

What callused heart abandoned thee?

Took all you had then set you free?

How fickle is the human mind

That leaves once valued things behind

Cast off you lay there all alone

Spent and broken on the stone

Your life was measured in your length

Your worth in words you gave

And when you could erase no more

They tossed you to your grave

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Ode to a Lally

Sister, sister best of mine

Wonderous the name is thine
Who else can by line and verse?
Quote any movie unrehearsed?
Wax eloquent of Shakespeare's ways?
Or speak of rats and pies for days?
Triumphant in each altercation
Homestarmy strong determination
Short in stature, tall in heart
Beautiful as well, as smart
Gryffindor without a doubt
No Hufflepuff will sort her out
A shining example of why one should read
A beacon of knowledge to all those in need
A sister, a mother, a daughter, a wife
You've played to perfection each role of your life
My big little sister, missed more then she knows
My heart travels with her wherever she goes
From Bucci to Tula this poem is for you
From Caleb to Natalie, these lines I construe
In laughing remembrance of each "Oo-de-lolly"
I do now deliver my "Ode to a Lally"
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Paper Cut
(Dedicated to David N.)

Pain thou name is paper cut

Foe thou name is page

Ruthlessly I was attacked

Provoked into this rage

Dare thee I, again to try

To rend me skin from skin

For if thou do then I shall too

To thee and all thy kin

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edeturs Pleaze Skip Theis Pome!

Bye; Kalab Kesnur

ise writtings this to speaks abouts a Terrible immposation

a pandemic epidemic that is Sweepings thru the nashun
with words Mispelt and gramer wong in evre single skool
its amasing evre student doesent Grajuate a fool
the Greatist problem I have found in all mi manie sirchings
is the lac of dots and Sqiggle lines that keep your writings lureching
the Sentenzes all run amuk the Pareagrafhs are gon
just lissen to the way thay sing in all those Wrapping songs
so as you no this problem must of Coarse be delt with quicklee
for rob the pen of gramer and Smart thoughts wil all grow sicklee
we needs to trulee educates each child in its verbs
to teach them what a Pronown be bad habits we must curb
now you may find it funy when a person Fumbles letters
you laugfh and moc they’re Stumbles as you shuld fore we’s there bettors
Butt if we do knot change there ways and give a helpping hand
they will REC our gorgous language and theyel tear a part ouwer land
so Weather you may chuze to here or give this Pome a thought
you can knot ever say again that of this you new nought
a Tragide it seems to me is creeping up on man
a loss of writen Beauty could now finelee be at hand
and though you may not feel this problum is of massive Relavance
remember without gramer that there’d be know written Elegence
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Human

Human I enter, human I leave

Human I'm happy, human I grieve

Human I ponder, human I pause

Human I look for some purpose or cause

Human I tower, human I fall

Human I hurtle, human I crawl

Human I wonder, human I see

Human I search for the human in me

Human I hope and yet human I fail

Human I'm locked in this fight to prevail

Human I'm only, perfectly flawed

Human by heaven in every way awed

Human I've loved, and human betrayed

Human I've followed, human I've strayed

Human I've laughed, and human I'll cry

Human I've lived, and human I'll die

Human forever, human soon gone

Human too little, human too long

Human I am, and I was, and will be

Human I wait, till from human I'm free

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Hubris
Hubris of the human soul
Bliss that slowly takes its toll
Grasping minds can’t comprehend
Breaking thought’s that need but bend
Far to busy fixing things, to ever get them right
They disagree to disagree, and only talk to fight
Pride their overwhelming flaw, Babel’s built of sand
Soaring castles in the sky, delusions more then grand
Ever rolling rocks uphill, the repetition builds
Self inflated genius that their ego quickly guilds
Shadows of their ignorance are cast across their path
To try and bring this fact to light just sparks indignant wrath
Happy to reside within the worlds that they create
Blind to all they need to see until it’s far too late
Stubborn in their surety of what they think they know
Confident of evidence that never seems to show
Carefully they craft the information that they find
Selecting slowly bit by bit what goes into their mind
Making their decisions long before they need decided
Locked inside the layers that at first they’d used too hide
Seeing their deficiencies in everyone but them
They prosecute their problems in the people they condemn
For understanding, in the end, it never even tries
Lost forever deep within its labyrinth of lies
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Continued in . . .

Loss A
weaving of words

Part the III

By:
Caleb Alan Kestner

http://www.aweavingofwords.blogspot.com