Enthusiasm
An infection of the gods
I will never fit In
My soul exist lost
I live with a love
That doesn’t resist
Invisible as the keeper
As real as my fist

Alone I roam
I’m destined to travel
Through my mind’s eye
The ending unravels
Still the keeper remains aloft
And I wonder if he’s there
Waiting to receive me
Death my only fear

I wonder why I’m here.

mindless ministries
mass media mind masters
manipulation

Goat-head surrounded
by ancient carved stones
Dimly lite torches
Piles of old bones

Revolving shadows
of residual wickedness
This is no place to linger
all the hate we come to accept
the keepers and the bringers!

Misfits all of us
when the puzzles redesigned
But it was never meant to be like this
for the fate of humankind
Apathy for the world aloft
has led us to a ledge
Sacrifice another goats
and the shadows shall be fed

Soup for a soul
As we bleed another beast
Drink now as our
empathy grows ever weak
We’re only walking in our sleep

what if a bomb drops
comes whistling
waging, burning, busting

and everything gets blown away

before you can peek your head
through that chipped white door –
turn that dumb, stuck ****
come home to me
and call me your wife?

I don't think about it

*****'s got the window open
letting her arm get soaked
with each bomb, fat raindrop
expecting to hit Sandy Ridge Road
but rolls down the skin
of her idle hand instead

her eyes are stuck outside
looking at anything but him,

the cigarette occupying his lips
the screaming, mountain-dew-yellow of his shirt

wondering where she and he and they and them
and whoever will go after this

I don't think about it

me after you, you after I
anything in-between
if we come falling
like big bombs of raindrops

scatter into feathers
like those sparrows sold two farthings

God says He sees
tell me not to worry

tell me not to think about it

Once my words
Were but a rainbow
A prism of colorful designs
But now I paint both grim and grey
In these dimmer darker times

What will come to be
Is on the wicked horizon
A storm of all gone mad
Into a new paradigm
Like tectonic plates shifting
Shifting Poets at their core

No more
No more police brutality
No more regime change wars
No more the one percent
****** us over and over! .

So we say
No more
As our poetry fights back.