the book of dying 1:4…

but men chastised claiming their righteousness
war was good bringing all peace
filling the markets so none starved
what’s done is good for all

the book of dying 1:2…

children died first with death’s arrival
ignored by men who fought wars
wars for gold measure of status
a world status nothing but vapor

 

never eat a mushroom unless you can positively identify it…

i got
aunt bea
a new iphone
so
we could
do
a little facetime
while
we’re confined
to
our respective
homes
we were
reminiscing
about
my inability
as
a youth
to
distinguish mushrooms
that
were edible
from
those
that were
poisonous
i suppose
it’s
a bit
like
picking
the right president
aunt bea
said
sometimes
we can’t choose
for
ourselves
and
every now
and
then
that can be
a good thing
but
we must always
be
observant
and
actively engaged
just
in case
those who
chose
for
us
made
a serious
mistake

 

i wish I had the right words…

words
litter
the graveyard
insincere
candy wrapper phrases
tossed
upon
the
headstones
with
those
laser etched designs
and
preset
engraved
catalogued
expressed emotions
which
when
properly applied
provide
such
a hand finished look
and
of course
the appropriate
level
of
family
love
and
bereavement

 

wearer beware…

there were
oceans
of
dreams
spilling over
my
youthful hours
hours
spent
naively blind
to
to my own
history
and
constrained beliefs
that
social propaganda
applied
to
my
thinking
webs
of
lies
spun
into
history books
and
daily routines
webs
of
deceit
molded
into
invisible
leg irons
lighter
than
air
so
we wearers
were
unaware
of
their presence
but
they
have been
far
more
confining
than
those cast
of
iron
for
if one
controls
the soul
then
there is
no
escape