He stood and shook,
the crook who took,
us all for Schnucks.

Pulpit pusher who
spit venom and lies
at those guys
in the pews.

Promised eternity,
but it was up to me
if I suffered
or excelled
beyond the pits of hell.

Not a wit of wisdom
was given
just lies proclaiming
that I should be taming
any skepticism.

He passed the plate,
but I left earlier
while others stayed late.

I am free while he
takes his sheep
and prepares to leave
for the end of days.

Looking forward to
the pain, plagues,
and the agony
of oh so many
people who do not
share his faith.

Seems like only a sociopath
would accept that
the majority of humanity
will burn for eternity.

But that smug mug grins
looking forward to
the bitter biblical end.

He lets it get darker.
As each sin begins
to cave in his skin,
he feels the death
of another friend.
Then the passing
of treasured kin.

The ground collapses
and he descends
to face the final
stage,
and rage against
that awful fate.

Streetlights go dim,
and a warm wind
starts chillin.

The sidewalks cracks,
and after that
the sounds of animal paws
and raven caws
ceases.

People stop speaking,
and he starts seeking
any redemption
to prevent him
from facing
that creepy sleep thing.

Not a bright light
or a dark scythe
cloaked guy
flies by.

It is just a light drip
like a leaking drain
with no pain
that that slows him
down.

The chasm calls,
blackish blue
and glittering pool
of infinite reflection.

The liquid is cool
as he slips and falls in
not quite drowning
but losing the outer edges
of conscious thought.

Foot, then up to his knee,
and he can see
sparkles firing lines
of lightning
sparking then fading,

Up to his but
then pass his gut
as each little light dies.

Lead heavy eyes
still crack red and dry,
as the murky water
gently summons him
to fall in.

One last breath,
then his mouth and nose
goes under as well,
followed by his hazel eyes,
and ***** brown hair.

The he sinks
no more thoughts to think
after he drinks
a little bit of this liquid,
and ceases to respire.
Instead, he expires
and his body
falls slowly disintegrating
in the space of eternity

The space bound
non-painted clown
acts like he is
on fire waiting
to back down
from the fight
he hasn’t found.

He is seduced
by the lies he uses,
for the art he confuses
with truths.

Paints reds and blues,
with pink petal hues
and terrible tints
that don’t compliment
him or any artistic endeavor.

Still, he believes he is as clever
as any other creative.

This is what we are dealing with
a lifetime of killing it,
by feeling our ****
while others split,

by writing duplicates
of the same poem that fits
with the scheme
we are obsessing over,

replaying the scene
in our dreams
as we get older,
and shoulder that boulder,
such a bad mad monkey
that scratches our back with
facts we would like to ignore.

What a ***** of an addiction
that makes us explore
our pains in poetry,
while others just fall, crawl
and convulse on the cold tile floor.

They said you were great,
so, I was willing to wait.

Set up the fourth
so, we could explore
the depths of our
shared history and more.

What a wild party,
made me feel
a little bit ill,
like a *******
I fell to fast
for the last
lies you told.

Don’t stop,
I hear the cop
shout out
as something
comes flying in
piercing my skin.

I know you don’t
love me America,
but I thought
we could be at least friends.

The elephant may never forget,
and neither will
the families of the
enemies we ****,
and the kids who were
separated,
from their parents.

America,
I thought you were special,
but you’re driving drunk,
using your vehicle
to plow down
the innocents you found
in favor of your favorite
heirs and heiress.
I thought you liked justice
but your just obsessed with
all that rich *****
can do for you.

Want to spend hours
paying to play
in the Macy’s day parade
while protesters pray,
you march and spray
sic streams of mace
and gas the faces
of those like me
who you seem to hate.

What a rough date.

America,
I think we should see
other democracies.

As I hear the wind blow through the leaves of the ancient cottonwood trees.
And I watch the squirrels gather their nuts and prepare for the coming winter, I'm reminded of a few things that come softly in the whisper of the autumn wind for all to hear, if they listen.

Behind the poem is a poet, a lover, maybe a mother or a father. But most of all there is a human being. They feel, and they love. They have been overwrought with pain. And enraptured by Joy. They need  compassion and friendship and the human touch.
Tread lightly, for you tread upon
their hearts.

If I am
gonna be better,
I better be deep,
get enough sleep,
so I can go on
working out
to break through
those natural
plateaus.

May take the
longest time
but I will find
the perfect line,
then make up
a better one.

Not gonna
slow my role
or loose my cool
anymore,
cold feet
can hit the road
cause I got
places I want to go,
and while I am
driving
I’ll be learning
things I didn’t know.

Since, I know
this show
will be cancelled,
and this fool
won’t live forever,
I’m gonna get
real freaking clever,
making myself better,
so I can enjoy
this one life.

Who wants to go get therapy,
expose all of those darker
pieces that are broke in half,
then reapplied to the darker side
of my glass figurine
that got smashed to smithereens.

Who wants to talk about my teen years
of hormonal chaos that cost me
so many nights of tears, anxiety,
and snot that made me cough.

I’d prefer not to be disturbed
by revisiting the pain existing
in memories I have put behind me,
so, I think I’ll pass on that whole
talking and letting go, so I can grow
and get better therapy scene.

The statues are down
and the flags have been
thrown out.

The war is over,
and yet again
we see our kin
with different
tints of skin
falling.

The battle is won,
or so they claim,
but that is just the way
they hide their lack of shame.

Divert, distract,
change the facts,
lie and lie
to divide
people who
should be allies.

Symbolic
concessions were made
so, we should all feel great
to live in this state
that greed and hate made.

Still,
our compatriots feel
the sick and shrill
anxiety turning to fear
that their children
maybe killed.

They are complacent
with nearly naked eyes
that seem anesthetized.

Orderly placement
of perfect soldier ants
that accede to the demands
of the most brutal man,

their sweet layers
of complexity
are surrendered to
the wealthy few who
who do not give
one ******* ****
about the masses.

Massive stone structures
collapse and succumb
to a cog like position
under all the dictator’s
thick heavy thumbs,
making minds of
inspiration numb
with unearned dedication.

Thus, such fleeting stars
are lost from view,
dying before their sparkle
can touch me or you.

I am getting
really ******,
as I hear
those who
spreads fear
and ignorance
make claims
like this is
worse than
being in
prison.

Seriously,
you’ve
got to be
kidding me,
this is worse
then being
locked in
a tiny cell,
a slice of hell
where you are
just a number,
just cheap labor
to save corporations
from having to pay
one sore lonely body
minimum wage.
Where there
is less humanity
and the guards
can get away with
treating people worse
then garbage.

Then someone
has the nerve to say
that they are slaves,
because they have to
wear a mask;
What world
are they living in
that they feel likecont.
it makes sense
to hold such
a sick pretense.
Come back
and complain
when they take
your loved ones away,
when your back is
shredded raw
from whips
and this is
supported by the law.
Please remind me
how this
inconvenience is
relative to slavery.

You got some *****,
like when cops
treat the innocent
like they are
thugs that need to be
imprisoned,
then turn around
and whine
that they don’t
get a fair shot,
after another cop
shot another
black man,
tear gassed
peaceful people,
and their other
brothers in blue
just ran through
a crowed of protesters
with their police car.

Look the city is burning.
Can you see it?
This will not be
super flashy
or rise up like a phoenix.

Sleepless eyes
are set in red
aching dry
from crying
for the dead;

While shaking fist
chant and resist
the oppressiveness
that lit this ****
to begin with.

Violence
erupts,
but it was expected,
from seeing the shame
of those who claim
they should be respected
whilst acting like thugs.

It is an irony
that they don’t seem to see
begging for relief
from a similar anxiety
which they imposed
on those
who are just asking for
the grace of human decency.

The city settles
the chaos will resume shortly
and I watch brave warriors
struggle to catch
their tear gassed breathes.