thoughts before knocking…

some doors
are

always closed
no one
dare
enter
nor
seriously consider
what lies
just
beyond
the threshold
other doors
are
partially opened
to
let those
passing by
admired
what lies
just
out of reach
so as to
fill their dreams
at night
but
a few doors
are swung
wide-open
inviting
all travelers
of
this life
welcome
and
a place
to rest
one’s weary
soul

from a mighty fortress…

tell me
what time
will
the angels
of god
descend
from behind
the walls of jericho
and
save this world
from
mankind
taking up
into their arms
a child
of
god
a child
to be given
new life
when
will they arrive
and shall that be
the time
when
the saints
join in song
filling the air
like a thousand
black birds
whirling
above the sadness
we’ve known
for all
too long
when
oh
when
will the angels
arrive
making
the earth
truly
alive

Poem Inspired by Spritual Standards Quinta: Markus Burger (Piano) & Jan Von Klewitz (Saxophone)

Background Music:  A Mighty Fortress is Our God

sheer madness…

the stone that struck him
was from the hands of a child
with a single shot
revenge was complete
the child’s blood filled the parkway
mingling with tear gas
wails from a mother
broke through the dark night’s chaos
an unanswered prayer
no apologies
for blind hate feels no remorse
so another grave
hewn from the rocky soil
will give rise to tears
tears watering blooms of hate
where a young child stands
family of the fallen one
now it’s death’s cycle
eternal eye for an eye
a nation’s history

deadly fungal infections….

CDC/GOV IMAGE

as i was passing
the newsstand
on my way
to work
the brown bag prophet
was reading
a discarded
morning paper
he
said
the cdc
has just notified
the public
that
a deadly fungus
has been
infecting people
mostly
the sickest
of
the sick
it’s resistant
to
all classes
of
antifungal drugs
he said
it’s rather like
the infectious
hate and fear
coming
from
washington dc
it’s
resistant to
all
forms of reason
spreading among
the sickest
in this nation
and
is truly
deadly

measuring…

the paint’s
worn off
where your fingers
carefully
calculated
what would be needed
to complete
the job
but
how many hours
were counted
as you made it
take shuffling steps
in and out
of its case
as you
sat
waiting
for
the union bosses
to
punch your card
granting
you
right of passage
to
the job site
and
to
moments of hope
hope
for a better life
for
those you love
better
than
yours
you
the poor
and
unwanted
immigrant seed
cast upon
this nation’s
desert sands
and
told
to grow
without water