All sin begins
with *******
leading to ***,
birth and life on
earth, but somehow
(if we believe the pew)
all but a single Jew
are born in sin while
forgiveness is reserved
for the picks of the herd
trampling slothful runts
beneath ***** and sweaty
***** on their way up the
Holy ladder to salvation's
elusive shore where matter
and spirit become one in
the Son's immaculate vision
of the united division of
imperfect man.
Meanwhile, we lesser beasts
are cursed with damnation
eternal both on earth and the
infernal regions until the season
of the Jew's expected return.

Burn it all...

It's *******.

No sin
No beginning
No end

No sending it out to
laundry like tailored
sheets to be returned
with fashionable pleats
in all the right places
Sad faces
Too many **** sad faces
Forgiveness is an elusive
***** these days, her gray
shadow an unrealized
contrast to our delusional
perceptions.

We can’t forget our
nightmares
And we can’t recall
our dreams
While everything
is illusion
No matter how it
seems
But somewhere in
the darkness
There’s a tiny fading
light
And all I can do
is pray that you
find shelter in the
night

A man will know
his enemies
And a woman know
her friends
While the bishop
on his chess board
Only knows how
to pretend
And the Christian
looks for answers
In his ancient
Holy book
But the answers lie
in the children’s eyes
if he would only stop
and look

A day is gone forever
in the moment that
it ends
While a memory is
eternal
If we share it with
a friend
And the universe
will answer
If we listen for
the call
But we will have
to find a quiet place
because it’s voice
is rather small…

Not yet the morning comes.
It’s not time for our embrace
to end.
My soul for another moment
to hold you in my arms.
My soul to feel you next to me
a moment longer.
Soon light will enter our world.
The minutes even now are quickly
passing
It’s almost time my love.
It’s almost time to leave your side.
We have but a few lingering seconds
to be together and then I must go.

But not yet the morning comes.

Veiled whispers startle
my polluted soul and
from the shadows she
appears.
Her hollow words pierce
the wind like soaring birds
and whither tomorrow’s
fragrant bloom.

The room spins.

Sins unfold upon
cold satin sheets.

Death's ritual accomplished
she departs leaving my heart
an empty shell swelling with
despair.

The unholy loss
of yesterday's bliss
and tomorrow’s fragrant
innocence.

Dead
Lost
The cost of redemption
too high for humanities
dregs to bare
There is no longer light
at the tunnel's end
and my mirrored friend's
eyes are vacant with
tomorrows lost
expectation...
When will the pain end
and the sun rise on the
morning of our soul's
desolation?
Droll preachers intone
empty words of pity
from the ancient book
they've been bred to
recite.

Whiskey or beer might
illuminate the darkness
better.