Let your word
       Not be wasted
             In the ears of stubborn
      Let your silence
             Silence  the noise
        Of ignorance and negativity.
                      be still
           Is to be at peace with  yourself
                           Know your worth
                                      Trust the process
                                                 Stay in faith
            create the future you ought to have
                                              And where you ought
                                                                ­To be.

I cannot state in good faith
That we were built for the human race
Who can spit and stand for that?
Bobcats and Confucians
Living through palpitations
And making love, wearing hardhats

Here’s the bran for the land
That took the bus in the freezing rain
Never planned to understand
The chastity of the impaled, all refrain
Someone must have prayed for such a fate

Curse the man who discovered that
Anyone who gives is a fading fad
Give me some empathy
Not some methamphetamine
It hurts enough to read the new design

Who wields the cannon?
And shall we give him a medallion?
Or risk a wilting, flying flag?
All grains are equal
All stain the feeble
All ride a boneless, brazen stag

Here’s the sermon in white
Clothed and baptized in grapes
Making light of the sight
That was stolen from a clothed and ragged ape
Someone must have narrowed their gate

Curse the woman who recalled
The pews as barren shower stalls
Give me an embassy
Or obsequity
Apathy straddles the razor line

Where’s the loss and who shall cross
The line of consummated minds?
Whose ink will sign the secular floss?
No one’s bred to live for death
Or bequeathed eternity
Who are we to elongate our breath?

We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past

singed by acute crossroads
        we are marooned through indecision-
pulling our weight
        trying to lighten the load

we bare it as does the earth
        and the sun lying on its cot
ready to fall beneath the resting place
        the coal of the hearth, warm in rage

our reflections are true in its image
        everything is a mirror
if you are willing to accept what you see.
        our weight falls from pinning

beneath that hibernating skyline
        as the sun turns it's red steel cheek.
the chains binding us to our burdens
        fall with that sleeping illuminator

pulling us to the ground, the dirt
         turned to mud with our spit,
the slime of creation in the eyes
         of the god we have failed.

only once our tounges rest with the rocks
        as the sun does with its cot,
may we (in our eyes) look up to the creator,
        and ask him to break our chain.