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

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 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

 

 

dancing with shadows…

dancing with shadows

those melodies
that
have
set the tempo
of
your life
have
disappeared
into
the
drumbeats
of
time
you
always
off tempo
enjoying
all the missteps
you’ve
made
never regretting
the toes
you
stepped on
it was
just
part of life’s dance
anyway
they
should’ve
never
asked
you to dance
in
the first place
or
held your dreams
so
close
to
their broken hearts
guess
that’s
why
you’ve always
worn
those
steel toed shoes
cuz
all
of life
is
a construction zone
one
never knows
when
the sky
will fall
crushing
the tips
of
your tomorrows
by the way
whatever happened
to
all
those old dance cards
you held
seems
you were deserted
on
the dance floor
no one
to
hold
or
dream about
guess
that’s what happens
when you
happily prefer
dancing
to
the off beat