There's movement afoot.
Occupants and sycophants
Are scattering
From the Rainbow Rooms
To the more concrete setting
Of the Oral Office,
Where the North and South Porticos
Admit the transients
Behind the secure cement walls
Of the Skinners.

Straddling a yesteryear and a new tomorrow
facing many challenges, holding onto triumphs

We hold our breath ready to say goodbye
and open our arms wide with a welcome hello.

The hate that grows in the fertile soil of the heart will
poison the blood within .

Watered with adequate lies will grow and encapsulate the will

The blood turns black
and poisons every cell of the body

Everything that comes out from within is cold and spiteful and loves dwelling in sin and ignorance

History is a pendulum
swinging perilously
back and forth
over our shared humanity.

Slicing bitterly
at the air above me
with a visceral hatred
for all the good things
I hoped we could be.

Kinder to hater,
forgiving to denier
loving to crier
sharper it slices
cutting the air cleanly
leaving me feeling it keenly.

Wild rhetoric
going viral,
virus of ******* words
spreading like the plague,
a poisonous and bubonic phage.
I struggle to stop it,
this rising tide
of tired tirades,
republican charades
turning different skin shades
into the enemy.

These neighbors are our family,
but the pendulum sees them
separated by the serrated blade,
exhausted by the hate
and violence that blazes.

History returns to sicken
my sorrowfully stricken
heartbeat.

Desire is the thief of
a pleasant present moment.

Chivalry is misogyny
demeaning the feminine,
implying weakness
that needs defending,
and unending serving
by a noble male authority.

Courtesy in counter
is gender neutral
merely seeks to help
in kind
those it finds
needs or could use
assistance.

When she takes her pain,
the pitch perfect darkness
that has pursued her,
the sorrow from all of those
who misused her,
and uses it
to illuminate
the void in which
other hurting souls
ruminate.

When despite
the years of abuse
he makes good use
of said experiences,
pardoning most grievances,
attempting to prevent
similar suffering
for others,
and his first instinct
is to offer assistance
to those in need
and those who
don't really need it.

When there have been
too many unkind men
knocking
and trying
to take
what was not theirs,
and anger
stirs in her,
when strangers
come near,
but despite
the rage and fear
she spends her years
studying and working
to overcome
previous tragedies
and share those lessons
with the rest of humanity.

When one child cries
and despite
the lack of age
another little wonder
of human flesh
expresses
genuineness
and tries to
calm the troubled youth.

My heart breaks , each time that out of anger or rage .
That someone speaks death into another person life here.
My heart really breaks, when it goes even a step further.
That out of rage that they want someone to get murdered.
It is wrong for anyone to want to paid anyone to get ******.
There are so many evil people that profess to know Christ.
Yet they would **** anyone that would get in the way of their thinking.
Christ not only calls us to love our neighbors but also our enemies.
In other words He calls us to love everyone that we shall meet here.

I didn’t find my faith
behind a wooden pew,
from the singing choir,
or the books that I looked through.
The crucified figure
just hangs up there to wither
whether I believe
or feel I’ve been deceived.

I got no faith to speak of
I got no god to seek but
I can bare this burden
by myself.

Calvary ain’t doing it for me,
and despite the lie
salvation doesn’t come from,
a sip of symbolic wine.
You eat fake ******* flesh
and say that it is fine,
but I don’t want to waste
anymore of my time.

I got no faith to speak of
I got no god to seek but
I can bare this burden
by myself.

You can keep your wooden cross,
and I will take all that I loss
though the burden maybe heavy
it won’t crack my back
cause I like my facts
they keep me standing
semi steady.

I got no faith to speak of
I got no god to seek but
I can bare this burden
by myself.

“But maybe your real job is shopping…”

Sleepwalk through stock footage.  Life as
documentary.  Soundtrack of horror movie score:
ambient electronica, bubblegum nostalgia and
**** love songs.  Everything becomes
visual metaphor: blackbirds, barcodes and
birthday candles; Big Pharma pick & mix;
lipstick ritual; pigeon superstition; fraying flags
of fading empires; migratory patterns of
shopping trolleys; special offers; fantastic prizes.
Worker bees are vanishing - they all want to
be queens - and our hives overflow
with honey, but are empty and dead.  We got
infected with aspiration, with individualism.  
Generically unique career consumers: remember
when you were more than your credit rating,
more than your demographic, more than your
market-driven self-diagnosis?

Bereft of depth
the cattle calls
a chattering clutter
of noises that bothers
saner minds
and their ****** daughters.

When fools ferment
deep discord
from a good temperament
turning sweet wine
into a bitter product
wilting from some
rotten vine,

and honest hearts
no longer entreat
the wisdom of fools
they once deigned
to share
humanity’s goodwill
and ever shrinking grace with.

Let them loose their tongues
and see drool dripping
like a sea of diarrhea.

For these things are
matters of darker dreams,
past times parting
partial truths
to the cruel schemes
of the obtuse
and greedy hearts
who abuse
all those
who challenge their views.