Today would've been his birthday but he didn't survive.
If John hadn't died, today he would've turned fifty-five.
He started by smoking *** and then he decided to start doing ****.
That stuff is nasty and it didn't surprise me when it caused his death.
John angered some people because he stole from them.
When he died because of drugs, it was both sad and grim.
I'm very sorry that he died even though he stole from me.
He can never steal or do drugs again because he's gone for eternity.

And my kingdom has fallen too,  
though I tried so hard to save its glory.  
All the gods and goddesses I served  
are upset with me. I'm so sorry.  

I could easily rise above the ground,  
if I only wanted to—I was so strong.  
But I've lost again what I once found,  
They were right, and I was wrong.  

Look at us; we are running away  
from the country that used to be our home.  
I never thought I could betray  
my own land, my own people, my soul.  

It's too late to sit and whine;  
it's too late to seek any forgiveness.  
Too late to turn back the hands of time.  
I'm the killer, the victim, and the witness.  

I could run, join them, and disappear,  
leaving cities of ruins behind.  
But I'll stay here; that's all I can do.  
I'll stay here and admit my crime.

I see where David Berkowitz got Jesus in prison
like they always do.
Now he runs a ministry, adept as he always was
at delivering
succinct
sermonettes
delivering people to God.

He was a postal clerk, always involved
with the Message.
Such converts have a carnival of explanations--
the devil
the neighbor's dog
and other invented booshwah.

Susan Atkins got Jesus in prison too
and wrote a memoir
about her redemption, her will turned over
from Charlie
to Christ
but it could have been Moonies or Ekankar.

There is a rat who lives in my garage.
He hasn't heard the Good News
but he never
hurts anyone.
He has published no book, leads no prayers.

He likes to hang out behind the shovel
that has never dug a grave.

The authorities let Leslie Van Houton, Caril Ann Fugate,
and Nathan Leopold out.
Karla Homolka changed her name and might be anywhere,
at services maybe,
holding a bible and smiling.
___

a beard hides the nakedness of the face
leaves cover the bareness of the branches
grass covers the planeness of the ground
but nothing covers the shame of your deeds
you came like a thief in the night
like a lion prowling for prey
evil and base were your intentions
sordid and heinous were your actions
with evil in your eyes and hatred in your heart
you lifted the dagger and brought it down hard
with one swift move, you killed the dream
you snuffed out the light and put it to sleep

When a detective falls in love, he does not know who to bill for expenses--
everything is up in the air.

At a mixer for suspects, he invites me to dance via loudspeaker.
Radiant in my white dress, I resemble a snowy owl
even down to my carefully bandaged hand which he takes without hesitation.
I whisper in his ear:

I am Leon Czolgosz.
Your heart is the President of the United States of America.
We are dancing in Buffalo, city by the Niagara.
My detective, of course, falls hard.

The next time we meet, I wait for him in the bullpen at the police station.
They know him there.
They hire cellists.
He confesses his deepest fantasy to me:

I want to speak words of love to you
via telephone
with our hands naked and separated only by the safety glass.
I want the call recorded
and broadcast to wild lovers around the globe.

Shortly after, we are married. I wear my favorite bearskin robe.
My small black cubs frolic nearby,
climbing the pews and then tumbling gaily down again.
My detective is resplendent in his tuxedo.
The hired band plays Funiculi Funicula.
I snarl when my detective gets too close to the cubs, and this inflames him.

At last, we lie in bed together, like busy machines come to rest.
I am wearing nothing but the revolver-shaped earrings he has given me.
My detective wears a felt fedora
and a look of smug adoration like a daredevil over the falls in a barrel.
I am The Queen of the Mist,
suspected in various thieveries, check kiting, and jaywalking.

Our love is an aviary
where birds wheel above the thundering water like intelligent confetti.
Look in your mailbox, I tell my detective.
I have left you a valentine and an Easter egg.
He asks if, after all, I am his mystery client.
I enter a plea of innocent.
My love is happy now, laughing.

काश उस दिन उसका भी कोई भाई होता,
आज वो सितारा हमारे बीच ज़िंदा होता।
काश कोई उसे जाकर बचा लेता,
कम से कम उसका तो ख़ून न बहता।

नरभक्षी भेड़ियों ने ली थी उसकी जान,
छोड़ा था उसे वहीं तड़पता, लहूलुहान।
चिल्लाती रही वो उसी जगह पर,
न जाने कितने ही जुल्म हुए थे उस पर।

नारी को निर्वस्त्र करने का परिणाम –
इस भूमि ने महाभारत देखा था।
धिक्कार है ऐसे समाज पर –
उसी भूमि ने आज यह अपराध देखा था।

जल रही हैं मोमबत्तियां शोक व्यक्त करने,
आंदोलन कर रहे हैं लोग और दे रहे हैं धरने।
क्या इस बार होगा उन दरिंदों पर कठिन शासन,
या फिर एक बार उभरेगा एक नया दुःशासन?