Cynical smile
Cold stone heart
Cracked inner core
Unrelenting bursts
Of anger
With love’s cool waters
The fire subsides
Distant, but here
Treading through
Life’s seas, Sailing
In thought’s breeze
Grasping, holding
But no luck
The cards stacked
Against my favor
Where is my captain
My driver, my stead
Why my longing
My greed, my need
He’s gone forever
He never was.
Over and over searching in vain
What is the agenda
Where are we going?
Crazy-
I once thought.
Sane? just maybe.
What about the others
What ones?
Where are they?
The simpletons
They’re hiding out in the gray.
How many of us have looked at it?
What did we feel?
a calming sense of being
Insignificant?
a sense of wanting
To know the stars?
What is this creature
This thing, this man?
I see only the ripped
Torn, worn, burnt
Sewn together remains
Of a child.
Broken body
Borrowed time-
A little sadness
A little pain, a little party.
A little
Just a bit more eh?
What does the master need-
Little gain.

Sell me your god-thing
That I might contemplate
It’s face
Where is my misplaced
Faith
Along the edges of
My dream-scape reality
I have never found
Any measure of grace
Maybe it has been
Buried along with
The ashes of time
Loan me your Idol
That I might
Worship and bow
While babies and ladies
And toys of my youth
Are mutilated and tossed
aside
where is this prophet
of ages past
where is my lot to be cast
gods and demons and
devils called divas
have all led me astray
sell me your god-thing
your play-thing
your toy
sell me your rosary
his crucifix
your joy
allow me to borrow
your kabbalah
your quran
your bible
your talmud
your kebra negast
give me your god-thing
that I might have peace at last
send with it your
lamentations
your reservations
your contemplations
but keep your wisdom
I have found mine
in the vast

Within lies a child
Frightened and wild
Striving to be released
From the dream.
Oh, to be released
Would be such relief,
Yet the idea makes
Me want to scream.
Instead of awaking
The adult keeps making
A dream for his child
To partake.
In the end a choice is made
A choice of someone else’s
Choosing.
Is it release or is it more
Grief?
What is it that I’m
Afraid of Losing?

Oh yes the reapers are reaping
Tearing shreds from soulless
Heaps of rotting flesh while
Laughing gleefully with lustful eyes
Consuming their sins with
Spasms of ecstasy, the screams
Giving fulfillment to the
Insatiable cravings that
Fuel their existence-
Each vile entity
Was once a beauty queen