
Lastly, a river
This scorching meandering
Into the sadness
Lastly, a river
This scorching meandering
Into the sadness
Don’t tell me how to feel
Swaying your delicate face with the air
I am comfortable in my wallowing
Base poet for a scornful weekend
A jester in a nightmarish creation
All the people stare at me
Blue pain was in my future
I thought they were laughing
But they made no sounds
Trapped in a time loop
My face fell off, I picked it back up, and it tasted of dust
A spoonful of sugar for my difficulties
Like an acid dose that makes my eyes hemorrhage
Why did you bring me here, father?
At the nexus of sin and glory, I chose the wrong door
I don’t recognize these colors, and the animals and flowers are not from this planet or any of the worlds we have traveled to so far
My skull weighs so much that it falls off my shoulders
Rolls down the hill and destroys the city
I feel mortified for all the times I didn’t mark the calendar
The days when Death showed up and coughed in my face
Oh, no – the time loop is re-starting
Time to slit the skin off my body and hurdle into the black hole
Wish me well
Underneath the cold, hard ground
I found the key to my soul
And I praised the gods of winter
Who enjoy the dead trees
And fallen leaves that rustle
Like shadow footsteps
In dark nights of lore
The high priests were astounded
By the teenage Jesus
No one believed us
When we saw him heal the blind men
In the sticky subway station
Outside the cold dream-realm
There’s a town on the outskirts
Where we have all felt
Compelled to take a stand
Against the demons within ourselves
We banged the gates down
We made impossible demands
And we were left stranded
In the cold dream-realm lands
I. A Dark Field
There is a field shrouded in darkness. You’ve been there before, though you only vaguely remember it. Maybe you saw it in a dream, but maybe, you were there in waking hours, but it’s buried deep inside your mind.
The field is like this: Cold, completely dark; the only sound is a groaning wind. There’s no moon in the sky, nor can you see where the sky and horizon meet because it’s as if you were blind. Yet, a fire burns far off in the distance, and you smell sulfur. The wind kicks ashes in your frost-bitten face.
You’ve been here before, you know it.
Continue reading “Garden of Night (a prose poem)”Who do you answer to?
We all serve someone, whether at the
Behest of a gun pointed at our chest
Or the collapsing sky and shifting
Sands beneath our tired feet
My scream was muffled by the millions
Of hands placed over my disgusting mouth
My words have no meaning anymore
I’ve taken a detour on
Information destruction highways
Where so much data is stored in
My false brain that I no longer
Know if I’m sane or part of the
Mega-corporation whole
Look out to the horizon
From the shore, there’s so
Much to explore
The endless expanse of sea
And the orange-red canvas of sky
You, my love, with me
In the nuclear dawn
Times of love and comfort
Amid the troubles we ignore
On our blanket on the sandy shore
Remembering those gone
And those yet to come
Humanity’s resilient thrust
Reptilian creature-rhythm
And love-making in ritual beds
The bright stars above our heads
Soaked sheets, ecstatic minds
Hide and seek, what did we find?
Consummation of our vows
Spiritual marriage of soul-thieves
Dusty books on our shelves
Hot coffee and hot sex
Breakfast on the beach
Neon lust and capitalism-sin
Feeding the monsters within
The philosophers’ smirk and grin
Sages and ancient whims
Look out to the horizon
From the shore, there’s so
Much to explore
Are you a friend or foe?
Truly, I don’t know
You creep around so slow
Then you bestow upon me
A guarantee of immortality
I don’t trust prophets like you
And the grand plans you pursue
You appeared, then withdrew
You claim you want to renew
The Kingdom of God