for some semantics…

for some semantics

i was telling aunt bea
about
a friend
of mine
that works
in a nursing home
and
how she said
that
some elderly
are
so confused
that they talk
about
people who’ve died
as if
they’re still alive
aunt bea
took a deep breath
and
said
there are people
on the periphery
of
your life
who’ve passed on
that we say
i knew them
but
there are others
whose love is so implanted
in our hearts and souls
that they are
always
talked about as
i know
so and so
for you see
they are
still alive
a living memory
of
true love

fears…

fears...

what woke you
at
night
when you were
a child
still lingers
in
the darkness
haunting
the hours
before dawn
but
for
some poor souls
it lingers
throughout
the day
and though
these are
no more
than created ghosts
harmless apparitions
that
cannot touch
nor
be touched
their mere
presence
in the light of day
fosters
anxieties
spinning
the mind
like
a child playing
with
an old toy top
creating
a dark loneliness
an invisible veil
that conceals
the colors
of
the world
leaving only
shades
of gray
and
dark shadows
turning
each day
into
a child’s night

law of cruelty…

zealots

hate clings to our souls
refusing to be dislodged
prayers relieve the pain
but it still remains inside
it’s existence’s parasite

 

 

illegal immigrants…

caught in a landslide

once death’s accepted
the question’s not if but when
the worrisome how
is an agenda item
paramount in some folk’s minds
but there’s an old lie
that fills our hearts with anger
eternal life myths
those promises that control
our desires and behaviors
keeping us restrained
compliant to other’s will
oh we had a choice
go against society
and live in the wilderness
or meekly comply
and go with the flow of life
sacrificing dreams
but being an outstanding
to be forgot fine corpse
with a funeral toast
praising all that you didn’t do
making you a saint
in some distant land of peace
an undocumented soul

shoving it up…

shoving it

now
if
the promised heaven
is
important to you
you
may want
to
follow
the prescription
of
gospel doctors
those
folks
occupying
pulpits
on
fridays
saturdays
or
sundays
and
increase
your
contributions
to
their
more than worthy cause
hell
you may even
elect to
help paint
the
preacher’s manse
but
i’ll assure
even before
the
paint
begins
to
dry
you’ll start
to
wonder
perhaps
because
of
the paint fumes
why you’re spending
so
much time
doing
what could be
contracted out
if
other
parishioners
would
or
could
feel
the spirit
of
god
in their souls
you know
the ones
who claim
to
be moved
to
be disciples
as
long as
it
doesn’t cost
them
any money
just
words
it’s at that point
you consider
putting
the paintbrush down
and
stuffing it up
someplace
else

 

 

the promise of eternity…

the promise of eternity

please stay
in
your
designated line
divine blessings
on
earth
are allotted
according to
your position
in line
but
rest assured
that
you’ll
be
given
a fair share
of
life’s bounty
upon
your souls passing
into
the chimeric promised land
a sure guarantee
from those
who
oppressed you
during
your time
on
earth

but one voice…

but one voice...

can’t hear
own
thoughts
too much noise
trafficking
from
lies and hate
masking out
voices
in
pain
homeless dreams
some
wrapped
in
the currency
of
war
but
what
can
one voice
do
to rise
above
war’s cacophony
of
misery
though
a simple solution
one
could join
the choir
of
hope
sending forth
words
of
unwavering
belief
in tomorrow
that
grasps
the minds
of
social sinners
like
an old gospel hymn
swaying
the coldest heart
towards
redemption
or
offer up
such a sweet solo
of
truth
so
powerful
that
the walls
of
deception
crumble
into dust
revealing
all
that was hidden
that
my friend
is
what
one voice
can
do
so
rejoice