the book of dying 1:7…

but death spoke offering false hope
and people listened denying all truth
choosing the darkness over the light
counting their coins not other’s lives

 

character actors…

 

iphone rings
set
to acknowledge
the callers
level
of
power
on
the
food chain
a
modified version
of
caller id
used
when
one accepts
society’s type-casting
casting
that requires
the
actors
each day
carry out
their
assigned
role
by
following
a well-worn script
of
self-importance
and
always
with
appropriate mannerisms
and
external trappings
suitable
for
any given
occasion
roles
can be held
for
a lifetime
or
until
the figure
in the mirror
reminds them
of
who
they actually are

 

don’t you laugh when the hearse goes by…

even tho
you’ve
written words
upon
the page
the page
is
empty
there’s nothing
there
just
the empty stares
of
a life
without
dreams satisfied
oh
you’ve managed
to
collect
tokens of wealth
along
the way
but
in the grave
their worth
is as
meaningful
as
your life
a life
of
counterfeit infringements
of
the right
to
happiness
no
doubt
you will
reject
my assessment
of
your
stellar
accomplishments
but
the worms
will
crawl in
and
the worms
will
crawl
out
of
this
there is
no
doubt

 

acts of pure evil or pot calling the kettle black…

i’ve come to believe
that envy’s behind evil
blind desires for fame
destruction of true heroes
to steal another’s glory

 

selfie files of peafowls…

selfie files of peafowls

no time to listen
you’re sure you’ve all the answers
preening your feathers

preening your feathers
as lions sing hunting songs
no time to listen

no time to listen
so lions devour your flesh
preening your feathers

let us tread down his life…

like every
false god
before him
his words
were engraved
onto the obelisk
of his pride
a monument
of self-indulgence
placed
in the desert
of despair
where the sun
and winds
of truth
wore away
the words
leaving only
a bare stone
broken apart
by those
who followed
to pave
the road
beneath
our feet