How can man create
by sight or thought or sound
the gentle Buddha's smile
but wear Christ's thorny crown?

For embrace or crucifixion
Do my arms spread wide
Do I live for peace,
or for peace, will I die?

Buddha smiles in agony
Christ suffers euphoric
And man himself then decides
What to **** and what to worship.

The words hang heavy
choking, a thick smog,
caught in our throats
while we stumble in fog.
the static is visual,
the answers are not.  
Uncertainty is clarity
when the soul starts to rot
The babble of birds
become songs of gods.
The creek still croaks
that man became fraud

the day the keyboards came with no question marks
and grammar books grew one chapter shorter
and the 'w's dripped off language
and it all puddled to tar
to seal the cracks
of purpose
and of
man

If I have ever
stared into the eyes of our lord,
I know I have seen it

in my son's hand grasping my finger.

And if I ever felt His smile
I know it was
            when I opened my arms wide
            and felt the sun's warmth on tender skin


and I know I felt His mercy
when I awoke
to a brand new day
made just for me.

Made just for me.

I and you,
You and me
Tangled, tousled
Thrown off sheets

Unraveled, unwrapped,
untame.
Understand?
Uncontrolled, under me
under spell,
and under hand.

Don't lie to me,
but lie for sleep
let morning pass,
and leave us be.

we live in a time,
where tradition trumps mind.

where habit defeats virtue,
where old conquers new.

Mankind is looking dire
So it seems I now admire

the quitters most of all.

wine spill on a carpet
cigarette burn on a car seat
rings on a coffee table
crumbs on a stove
jelly fingerprint
toothpaste spittle
sauce dribble
nicotine stain
**** pants

we are just
a little accident
someone is waiting to
clean up
insignificant yet
troublesome.