formlessness…

like staring
at
stars
we seek
to
find
familiar patterns
of
understanding
for
the amorphous hate
residing
in the heart
of
this nation
we
conjure up
through
our incantations
of
the sacred words
we the people
the
mythical spirits
of
freedom
and
morality
only to hear
the despairing echo
of
our own voices
voices
resonating
in the emptiness
of
each day
yet we
continue
our
self-hypnotic chants
as if
the very words
can charge
the chaotic
into
a form
we can understand
and
thus change
but
like
the centuries
of
incurable believers
before
us
our invocations
are
all for naught

 

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