over the roof, low
flew above me, hovering.

called the gardener, he came
running. we watched the
red kite.

together.

they used to be rare.

sbm.

the death
of self, exhaled, borne upon
wafts of
air, and
I, with my self-conscious
prose and pretensions
of intellectualism,
and I, dreaded I -
there is a beauty in
ideology; even wastrelism,
being the muck of the earth and
much reviled by Proper Gentlemen,
has its allure and adherents
those disciples of Dionysus,
bacchanalia becoming banal by
sheer repetition:
*****, *****, *****, shotgunned beers, and then-
TEQUIIIILA!!
crowed at the top of their lungs,
memory expunged by
hepatic-processed organic compounds.
of course, these mannerisms are simply
beneath you, disdainfully
catalogued by keen eyes:
no, your form of forgettance
is much more forceful, much less
fanciful and romanticized:
your amnesia is
absolute,
it required nothing less than
total dedication, mortification,
death of self as you
expatiated lusts, loves,
aught but ambitions remain,
and now, you have triumphed:
you stand solitary, skyscrapers
shining for your personal
pleasure, yet you can find,
none.

Lots of people come and go.
Lives cross each other, yet o one knows.
The corners are always lively.
The vendor makes another sale, and
the customer leaves satisfied.
Someone waits across the street, for
someone else to meet them.
They connect to each other with a smile.
Hands held and stride as one.
The storefronts shine brightly
hoping to make a sell.
The beauty of the city
is made by you and me.

Christianity:
Love everybody, no matter what;
If they're homosexual or even a ****,
It doesn't matter what life they lead.
Help your fellow man if he's in need,
You really needn't add to your growing greed.
Jesus said the most important thing in the world is love,
And that we should be kind to others even if they're not kind to us.
We've all sinned and we're all equal in God's eyes,
So mistakes of someone's past are no excuse for us to despise.
We know we are all children of The Lord,
So we should love every last person in this world.

Bigotry**:
If they're different, they're evil.
If it scares me, it's from the devil.
If I feel uncomfortable about something done by my fellow men,
Then surely it must be a sin.
Always judge, always be intolerant.
I think I'm moral, but I'm just ignorant.

I stand before the walls of a glorified failure as it tumbles beneath itself.
The nature of a grave danger, labored with a dire wager.
Plunges and crumple, into a pile of rubble
and to continue forth into a hidden tunnel.

Dirt stain fingers and my inner winner;
The only tools left to dig a way out of our rapidly crumbling puzzle.

You delivered me my unfathomable killer-
A ineradicable form of justice.
My sacramental, misjudgment of
a thrill gone astray.
Leaving me feeding the birds which prey on saints most days.

I stand before the wall as a simple thrall.
Dirt and grime painting my nails.  
I stand in my hellish pit readying to climb.
Ready to rise from the plague surrounding me.
To fill my lunges with air, not lingering with death.

I am ready.
The bringer on the rise.