an unusual career path…

copyright cwmartin 2011

he’s a madman
don’t want
no canonization
just wants
his cheap wine
and a pack
of lucky strikes
all this talk
of salvation
has made him
make a proclamation
heaven is full
of useless saints
quite willing
to welcome you in
while earthly bound
you’re on your own
so he’d rather have
cheap wine
and a pack
of lucky strikes
don’t need no
door-to-door prophets
nor cartoons
depicting heaven
that no one’s seen
but he’s seen the news
while in the liquor store
’bout the state of the world
all the dire predictions
’bout most of mankind
and he’s seen
politicians come and go
making the same damn promises
and never delivered
to hapless voters
so he chooses
to be a madman
don’t need no canonization
just cheap wine
and a pack
of lucky strikes

all saints day…

as you
have noticed
my attendance
at the save-your-soul dealership
could be
as a rare sighting
that point aside
i have
been wondering
’bout something
seeing that
i’m no theologian
i was wondering
given your attendance record
if you could
shed some light on something for me
here’s the rub
i read in old days
those barbaric pagans
had lots of gods
each one
prayed to for
different reasons
or because of their tribe
i’ve noticed
folks have a lot
of different statues
that they pray to
instead of directly
to god

dissociative entity …

Image Provide by Vlad

i am here
just below those
fragmented pieces of colored glass
an illusion
just a
can you see my bones
a spirit without form
but with substance
not to be touched
or prayed to
an angel
a demon
as you must
but i am here
and unlike your
windows of belief
i see what you do
i follow you through the day
and see how words in the glow of god
fade in the light of day
for years
those petrified saints of glass
have looked down upon you
watching you inside on your knees
proclaiming your faith
rendering your thirty pieces of silver
but i
i move in the shadows outside
beneath the lies you tell
i’m the reflected colored light
in a night’s bed of passion
winking at you
before you crawl home
to a cold dinner
of yesterday’s hope
i am the cold touch
as you fall asleep
and the sharp pain
that you feel
as you

This is the fifth part of a series of poetry challenges between Jade ( and me. The whole idea behind it is to send a picture ( in this case by Vlad) to the other as inspiration (or visual muse, if you want to), and the other has to write a poem inspired by the image. Visit her site to see how she has responded to m third challenge photograph on her site.