driving instructions…

like
a child
staring out
the back window
of
their parent’s car
we pine
for
what was
as if
it were
really
as wonderful
as we
imagine
we forget
the arguments
and
incidences
that
ended with
our
early depature
declaring
that
we’ll
never return
to
this god forsaken place
or
talk to
this
persona of satan
ever again
yet
when we are
isolated
from reality
we embellish
the few morsels
of
joy
we had
creating
a fictionalized historical event
probably
as truthful as
most history
where the good guys
always win
and
the damsel in distress
is
a kung fu master
seems
we’re always
looking
for
the rationale
for
events
how do they
fit
into
the plan
and
purpose
of
life
well
this might surprise you
but
there is no
real purpose
nothing’s been
ordained
your empty minutes
and
hours
are controlled
by
no god
or
saint
it’s you
staring out the back window
instead
of
looking at
where
you’re driving to

 

replicas…

wrapped in a comforter
of
memories
lying
in bed
head buried
in
pillows
of
what could have been
day passes
into
tomorrow’s night
when
nothing changes
outside
the world
ignores
all human tragedy
as if
watching
an old rerun
and
perhaps
that is the case
history
repeating
don quixotes
we all

 

the gnat’s complaint…

these webs
are
so unjust
flies
always die
staring
into
my eyes
with
the most
incriminating looks
as if
i
were the one
who spun
this web
but
i
and
those generations
before me
have been
trapped
within
these fibers
of
lies and promises
for
centuries
had i
been born
with
more mass
i
would have flown
right through
this
social web
no more
inconvenienced
than
needing
a quick shower
afterwards
but
that is not the case
i
linger here
as
a bit of amusement
and
as
a morsel
for
a boring day
a systemic slave
the quintessential
essential worker
to be
devoured
or
left
to
just
decay
and
die

 

when in interlude of darkness..

if
you
feel like
you’re crawling
through
mud
with
rancid water
soaking
your clothes
and
the weight
of
progress poverty
pressing
you further
into
the mire
of
inequity
you must
still
continue
the fight
for
social justice
but
each time
you grow weary
focus
on what you do have
those
loving hands
that
reach out for you
those
words
of kindness
and
appreciation
for
all you’ve done
and
those tearful eyes
that
look to you
for
what
you will
do

 

freedom’s march…

rotating the sphere
an embedded scorpion
that appears to move
merely the glass refraction
like societal changes

 

random acts of violence…

simulated waves
of
empathy
wash over
the bodies
in
the street
bodies
wearing
corporate logo t-shirts
corpses
photographed
like
selfies
on
iphones
and
posted on facebook
for
likes
by
social mercenaries
dreaming

of
corporate sponsorship
while

police
with
city seal embossed
face masks
employ
non lethal rubber coated
lead bullets
into
the eyes
of
reporters
and
into
the skulls
of
vietnam vets
those
old men
on
their way
to fill prescriptions
for
heart meds
a
med
not need
for
those without
a
heart

 

another laundry day…

child
ain’t nobody
gonna
wash
your laundry
those stains

have been
on
your bed sheets
for
years
and
as much as
you’d like
they
ain’t
no
turin shroud
looks
more to me
like
the face
of
a dying nation
outlined
in the blood
of
its
fringe
citizens
but
you do as you wish
add
some more
bleach
to
make it
as
white
as
snow
just like
you’ve done
everytime
that stain
for
freedom
reappears

 

merry-go-rounds…

i’m
having trouble sleeping
my dreams
are
continuations
of
my day
each anxious moment
is replayed
as if
on
a conveyor belt
where
my fears
are
mass produced
without
modifications
by
hope
just
cloned nightmares
at
dawn
i awake
in
a pool
of
sweat
weary of the night’s
offerings
fearful
of
the new day
that
will bring
a sequel
when
darkness
shrouds
my being

 

a tarnished holy grail…

the chalice
had
sharp broken edges
on
its rim
with
stains
of
blood
along
it’s stem
a
shylock merchant
said
it was safe
to
drink from
and
that the nectar
at
the bottom
was
an elixir
surely
used
by
midas
tho
the pungent
smell
of
death
permeated
the air
around
it
the odorous decay
of
souls
but
greed’s disciples
grasped
the chalice
and
drank
hoping
to
taste
the elixir
and
possess
their golden dreams
but
the chalice
only
contained
the
blood
of
fools