On god's paved Earth
the holy men are wrong
they preach to broken glass
buried under flesh and skin and fabric.
We should all be crying; mourning
the bleeding Earth in the Gulf of Mexico
belching out its own poison
but. I am concrete.
wishing tears would run down my face
screaming into the Forest "You are all that is holy"
and the holy men are wrong
the preach unto each other
under money and control and the american dream
redefining morality to suit your needs.
they ignore a pattern so simple
a pattern found in dirt;
bred in dirt
for intelligent life it is strange
that we are the only ones who do not know our meaning.
the amoeba knows
because Life is simple, and It is simple.
do not believe the holy men
even if your thoughts are shards of broken glass
even if your insides are incased in concrete. like mine
it makes me so sick, but i Know
and turn to your naked body saying
"You are all that is holy"