transparent human bodies…

transparent human bodies

what if all the souls
on earth
had cellophane skin
and
we could see
every organ
and
watch
the blood flow
to and fro
from
the heart
as
it beats
steadily
beneath
the ribs
what then
would we choose
to
hate
for surely
man
cannot live
without
hate
would we choose
how a voice
sounds
oh
i suspect not
we’d
probably rely
on
color again
except
now
the color
of
one’s eyes

 

 

to those fearing woke…

to those fearing woke

my soul will not bleed
you may tear away my flesh
torture these old bones
scream obscenities
but i have learned of the truth
and understand my self-worth
so your words and deeds
cannot penetrate my soul
centuries of lies
used as societal chains
no longer bound my future
to your perspective of life
without breath or pulse
i would rather be than forced
to live as a slave to your will

 

 

the cat…

the cat

first of all
i should note
that
the cat
never seemed
to
trust me
so
when i would bring
my old friend home
from
a concert
for
he could
no longer drive
at night
i couldn’t help
but
note
that
as i helped my friend
to the door
i could see
eyes peering
at me
from the darkness
it was
the cat
and
the cat
would only enter
the doorway
after i
had left
the immediate area
now
i’m not a believer
in souls
and
such
but
i must admit
the cat
seemed to be
linked to
the old man’s soul
and
as evidence
one night
the cat did not
appear
days went by
and
still no cat
neighbors searched
as
did i
but still
no cat
i presume
the coyotes
finally got
the cat
a natural process
but
none the less
sad
oh
now for the evidence
without the cat
the old man
seemed to quickly fade
becoming more
dependent
upon others
as if
he’d lost
one
of his lives
the cat
never
appeared
and
the old man
disappeared
into
heaven’s ether
i
presume

thoughts during sleepless nights…

thoughts during sleepless nights

there are
more
dead
than alive
on
battlefields
so
many martyrs
rushing to death
to
save souls
lost
long
before
the battle began
but
blind belief
as
all
belief
has to be
since
belief
has no foundation
in
reality
it’s just
an undocumented
immigrant
outside the borders
of
reason
settling
wherever
there
is
a vacant heart
those
homeless encampments
thirsty
for
hope’s pure waters
said to flow
from
the fountain
of
youth
or
perhaps
the concept caves
of
rebirth
that
eternal existence
that can
shun
the coldest
of
death’s frosted earth
for
it is said
that the soul
rises
before
entering the grave
so
what use
were those bells
were
they for
just nonbelievers
who were
prematurely
ushered
into
the void
not
having a chance
to
declare
tho
hesitantly
their belief
in
the wonderland
of
afterlife
but
who is to say
since
no one
has
stepped forward
from
their crypt
to
provide
any
testimony

i’ve lived…

i've lived2

nothing
will be placed
upon
the earth
to
mark
that i was here
it is
by my choice
for
no one
really
looks at graves
oh
someone
may wander by
and
comment
about
a clever verse
inscribed
upon
the marble
but
it is
the inscription
that’s
recalled
not
the person
no one
ever really knew
the
person
that
housed the soul
beneath
the flesh
that’s
why
we’re not recalled
we began
as a faded image
and
death
merely bleached
what
was left
leaving
at best
a sketch
of
what
people wanted
to
believe

even when…

even when

his prayers
never
saved
a single soul
nor
kept death
from
the doors
of
those he loved
his
devotions
to
the divine
were
his hopes
offered
to
his
beliefs
not
to
any one god
just
a simple contract
with 
himself
so as
to
have a reason
for
awakening