free wine from false prophets…

Chalice1

flagrant lies and crimes
are summarily dismissed
by hate’s disciples
charlatans face no judgment
shielded by a nation’s myths
the key’s self interest
feed disciples their fears and
they willingly drink
whatever poisonous brew’s
placed in their chalice of self

millwright…

millwright

they tossed
the loose end
of the rope
onto the tree
his skin
blackened
by
african sun
the sun
that
fostered
all
of
creation’s life
speaking
in tones
sown in his voice
by god
he said
you are the blood
of my blood
so i
have slept
with your mother
giving birth
to you
i have slept
with your wife
giving birth
to your
sons and daughters
and
even in death
i will sleep
with your daughters
giving
birth
to the ages
you
cannot separate
my blood
from yours
you
lie
in the shallow grave
of
denial and deception
breathing in the hate
of madmen
and
with those words
he closed
his eyes
and
died
of
natural causes

systemic bribery…

systemic bribery

lives changed and lives lost
the cost of doing business
a survival game
played by earth’s inhabitants
who ante in their own lives
claiming it’s just a job
oh gratuities
can be quite small or quite large
but they are deserved
say all the recipients
so no need for any guilt
it’s just a little white lie

 

 

when eyes avert…

when eyes avert

a
wall
of
death
names
scribbled
onto
old
decaying
wooden planks
of
history
those
souls
lost
in ignorance
believing
that
online propaganda
could
somehow
or
should
rebuke
science
so
they
joined hands
forming
a circle
around
their misconceptions
to
shield
those
within
but
those
within
all
died
but
the protectors
cheered on
by
the patrons
of
greed
and
power
couldn’t see
the
obvious
for
they
were
looking
outward
facing
the blinding
light
of
truth
unable
to
see
the carnage
of
their
blind beliefs
bodies
piled
high
into
eternity

raised white…

pay no attention
to how mirrors color you
although you’ll be judged
by what pigment others see
pretend it’s not a factor

 

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