i wonder
if
anyone
stops and stares
at
these billboards
of
my mind
the words
that
i place
upon
the page
i suspect
most
will be forgotten
along
with
my name
that is
of
course
not much
of a surprise
we poets
for centuries
have pasted
our feelings
on
every surface
possible
words
often erased
by
ignorant
self-serving hands
or
those frightened
by the truth
but
we have
had
our say
and
on occasion
are able
to give voice
to those
who dare
not speak
giving voice
to those
unheard
we poets
attempt
to yell above
the vulgar platitudes
of
concern
and
empty promises
promises
for a better day
if only the oppressed
will
give
it
time
time
the one thing
they’re permitted
to have
and
oppressors
want them
to waste it
waiting
for what will
never
come
now listen friend
though
it ain’t supposed to be
they’ve buried
their dead
in that barren fenced-in lot
right over there
all burial services have been
fine
celebrations of life
by
homeless persons
services were conducted
by a fellow
called
preacher
don’t know if he is
but
he does have a way
with
words
didn’t have to dig the graves
since
parts of the oil pipeline
caved in
during
the last set
of
thunderstorms
creating
a number of sinkholes
coffins
have been made from
leftover crates
from
the pipeline company
sure
a lot cheaper
than those
from
funeral homes
in any case
i’m telling you this
cuz’
you asked
if
homeless people
truly appreciate life
i suppose
one could say
they appreciate it more
than most
for they have the least
of
what life has to offer
so
they’re not confused
or
overwhelmed
by its shiny objects
you’ll find
nothing beyond
the
shadows
of
their words
there’s no truth
to be
heard
only
repeated
lies
formed
into
political sacraments
placed
upon
the tongue
as an offering
to
ignorance
no
substance
for
the body
but
enough
empty promises
to
fill
the
void
of
mindless pilgrims
pilgrims
seeking
what has
never existed
on
this planet
yet they
aimlessly wander
through
vacant dreams
of
personal glory
and
take
guided tours
of
the ruins
of
true thought
when people
were murdered
needlessly
there was
a brief
outcry
for justice
how could
anyone
accept
a vigilante inflicted
death penalty
for
merely drinking
from
freedom’s well
people
were so angry
for a while
but
when
it was pointed out
to
the gathering
crowds
that the well
holds
a forbidden sacrament
not
to be imparted
to
just anyone
according
to
our
founding fathers
only
the children
of
leukothea
are
permitted
to
drink from the well
and
with those words
as if endowed
with a blessing
the crowd
dispersed
singing
the national anthem
and
that old standard
this land is my land
private property
when death
is
upon
your breath
with
its bitter taste
lingering
throughout the day
some
will say
your
mood
has changed
though you know
it
has not
it’s just
the scent
of
death
a scent
they do not know
but
one day
they’ll
recall
and understand
when
death
is upon
their
breath
ain’t never wondered
if
you were there
or
not
cuz’
i’ve been carrying
this
holy book
as
my shield
since
i was young
and
force fed
to believe
without
doubt
there
was
some higher
power
than man
as well as
purpose
for
my life
but
as
i’m saying
this final prayer
surrounded
by
the rotting flesh
of
innocent lives
i’m
just wondering
if
you’ve
ever
been
there
Read Between the Minds 