playing by the rules…

life’s full of carnival games
players following the rules
end up
spending more
than the prize is worth

 

freedom’s song

ain’t no music
to be played
really
doesn’t matter
the song’s
been heard
before
with words
that
make promises
never
kept
for some reason
folks
always joined in
on
the chorus
guess
flaws are easily
concealed
when
the number
of
voices
are multiplied
but
those damn
solos
never seem
to
attract
a crowd
of
participants
it’s hard
to stand up
and
raise your voice
when
there’s
uncertainty
and
a voting audience
waiting in
judgement
to
contend with
easier
to
just wait
for
the
collective part
of
the song
the chorus
even if words
are
merely mouthed
you can’t
be proven
wrong

your growing regret …

 

your regret will not
breathe life into those who’ve died
so just save your breath
don’t burden us with more lies
of your spineless behavior

 

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

 

how freedom’s lost…

most folks take notice
when a small dog makes a fuss
but the hounds of hell
arrive unannounced no sounds
silently taking a soul

 

while you were waiting…

i’ve noticed
that
you’ve
begun
to talk
to
shadows
and
wait
quietly
for
their reply
one
that never comes
but
still
you wait
like
some marble monument
depicting
an unknown saint
slain
in
the service
of
an unknown god
i
suspect
that
you
do not see
the
encroaching darkness
nor
understand
the perils
of
your compromising
you’re
too engrossed
in
your dreams
of
power
to
see
or
hear
death’s proclamation
i
claim
your
soul
for serving
the
god
apate

 

go ahead and drink the kool-aid…

©2019 Charles Wm Martin

you sing
hallelujah
from
oaken pews
each
sunday
joining
the choir’s
exaltations
to
the endless void
of
death
never questioning
the promise
of
mercy
for
all sins
but
what of those
of
omission
children
left homeless
and
affection starved
victims
of
war
and
political egos
stripped naked
of
humanity
left
without
the shroud
of
dignity
and
in your chosen blindness
you pray
for
souls
that you shun
each day
of
the week
crossing streets
to
avoid
exposing your sins
those
crosses
you chose
not
to bear

 

no expedient allegiance with faith…

knees sore from praying
thumbing for a new passage
for understanding
compromising with evil
but not one can be found

 

behavioral modification…

the names
of
their true
gods
adorn
their bumper stickers
embossed
with
their
mindless mantras
those
carefully contrived
scriptures
from
an ad agency
after being
thoroughly
researched
by
behavioral scientists
and
predicted
to be
on par
with
the gospel
convincing
even
saints
to vote
for
the devil