a den of thieves…

life's garment

the edges
of
the dream
have frayed
the finely
woven stories
of
youth
have
not
held up
over time
the rough surfaces
of
reality
have worn away
the protective
layers
of
myths
and
the religious strands
of
those
gospel weavers
and
preachers
who
now stand
indistinct
from
the sinners
they
warned
us
of
their robes
now bare
clear marks
of
truth’s whip
and
their hands
are dirtied
from
the coins
gathered
from
the temple floor
money changers
now
tell weavers
how
to run
the looms

law of cruelty…

zealots

hate clings to our souls
refusing to be dislodged
prayers relieve the pain
but it still remains inside
it’s existence’s parasite

 

 

behind life’s walls…

could see the wall’s slats
where plaster had fallen off
and could hear strange sounds
could also feel the cold air
warning me to stay covered
to remain in this old place
not to tempt the fates
accept the dead bird in hand
like some before me
languishing in lifeless rooms
accepting death before death
mindless survival routines
sanctioned by the church
and other corporations
for the good of all
according to marketing
but what was outside the walls
now here’s the surprising part
outside the first walls
is another set of walls
actually a maze
so once you feel you are free
you find that you’re still walled in
at least with a better view

 

 

another child’s grave…

another child's grave

tragic events
always
seem
to bring out
the
comparisons
how tough
things
were before
or
how good
someone
has it now
but
when it strikes
a child
we
retreat from
our
usual
self-pity dialogues
and
question
life’s fairness
we compare
our
childhood
with
the one
this child
will
never have
asking
why
what has this child done
that
all of heaven
has
forsaken them
there’s
never
a suitable answer
just
the old
god
works in mysterious ways
or
it’s his will
neither
ever addresses
the real question
why a child
and
not those
who brought
about
the child’s death

 

 

another routine…

another routine

our time empties out
there are small perforations
in our existence
that go unnoticed as we
move through our daily routines
excused away by us all
until it’s too late
that’s the point when we reflect
upon life’s meaning
and the arrival of death
as it moves ever closer 
consuming all our dreams
we rationalize
that we have had a good life
questions still remain
what about that afterlife
will there really be judgement
eyes close praying for sunrise

 

 

heavenly rave cancelled…

heavenly rave cancelled

we’re rebel angels
we dance on the edges of clouds
our weekly outing
hoping not to fall to earth
things there have become
a real living hell on earth
wars and pandemics
those corrupted corporations
producing famine
have made reincarnation
an unattractive option
so we always watch our step
heaven forbid
we fall from grace and end up
back at our old place
maybe these parties should stop
i mean we’ve lived this before
so there’s no needed revivre