mistaken idenity…

every since
high school
you’ve
counted
too much
on
angels
when things
were
bad
you’d quietly pray
that
your angel
would
take the pain
away
it never did
but
you continued
to pray
and when
as
one might expect
the
pain
gave way
to
joy
you credited
your
angel
ignoring
what you
and
your friends
had done
to clear away
the
darkness
perhaps
the light of joy
blinds us
to
the real angels
in our lives
the ones
without wings
that by no standard
could be confused
with some
angelic form
but
that are
none the less
performing miracles
that change
the path
of
our future

 

persnickety…

sermons
always contained
just
enough
sideline sunday sin
to
engender
a level of guilt
that
fosters
donations
proportionate
to
perceived public perception
of
sins committed
offenders
carefully monitor
smiles
smirks
and
direct scours
of
other parishioners
to
assess
the level of discernment
by
said
members
to
the number of sins
previously
thought
to be
undisclosed
following
this post sermon survey
as
the collection t plate
canvasses the congregation
the magnitude of
the visible
repentance offering
is
adjusted
and
humbly given
but
with
flare

ain’t got time to meditate…

now
i
certainly appreciate
all
the heartfelt
words-to-the-wise
we’ve
been having
about
the benefits
of
daily contemplation
learning
to
deliberate
on
the moment
and
not
project
into
the future
or
woller
in
yesterday’s mud
but
when you’re
just trying
to
survive
the day
then
pausing
to
smell the roses
ain’t
an option
nor
is there
any respite
to
look
towards
tomorrow
tomorrow
isn’t a consideration
and
when you don’t
look
to tomorrow
hope
becomes
a useless
vocabulary word

 

the gods discount center…

although the names change
they all share common tenets
first deny what’s real
then accept the written word
given by an unseen god
an unseen god that
only has private briefings
with select prophets
who were moved to write his words
in order to save us all
that is all that will
not question what’s been written
and of course provide
for the prophet’s earthly needs
as down payment towards heaven

 

small seeds of life’s fortune…

penny found on street
a lost soul without a home
deemed worthless by most
no one bends to pick it up
life’s true fortune cast aside

 

barabbas …

murderous traitor
count the dead in this nation
how can anyone
that claims that there is a god
crucify the innocent
instead of the beast
do they long to bathe in blood
that of our children
or of those too poor to beg
for their god’s mercy
are silver coins of greed’s realm
worth denying sacred words
will the holy bed
be soiled with the putrid
lies of one man’s lust
or will the faithful remove
each bloody nail from faith’s hands

 

departure…

canopy
conceals
the stars and moon
darkness
shrouds the source
of
sounds
in
a veil
of
fear
sounds
come from
all
directions
none louder
than
the boy’s
pounding heart
as
shallow breaths
join
the chorus
of
fear
suddenly
strong scents
fill
his nostrils
it’s like
an approaching death
pulse
quickens
he
lowers his body
to
the ground
becoming one
with
the earth
then
a torch
is lite
he is encircled
by
his elders
bapa dola
speaks
saying
each hunter
must have empathy
for
their prey
the taking
of
life
for survival
means
the end
of
survival
for
another
so
should be done
with
respect
and
understanding
of
the prey’s fear
a fire
was lit
and
the elders
brought forth
nature’s offerings
for
a boy
was now
a man

 

it’s all about timing…

the pastor
swayed
to
the music
from
the youth choir
smiling broadly
as
he opened
the bible
and
read
a verse
about
the true meaning
of
forgiveness
to which
deacon jones
exclaimed
amen
while
staring
at
a frowning
sister jones
in
the front row

 

not that it’s my business…

tell me
mister christian
if
it were your
wife
daughter
or
child
groped
and
raped
by
the president
would
you
be
as forgiving
as
you’ve
been
so far
freely
supporting
the evil
that’s been
done
to others