I pray to that dead
criminal Jesus - to set
us right - restore us.

We’re a mess - like
spilled salt - remember the  
fresh air of freedom?

In dreams I search - there
must be a cure lying
around somewhere..

Eyelid shades
open on chiaroscuro
lit, moody mornings.

I keep my head down
I’m doing my fey best, to
let nothing touch me.

.
.
.
** Note: I was raised a Catholic. Jesus wasn't crucified by some accident - he was executed as a criminal - that's just a fact - not an attack on Christianity - I would never attack a religion.. except maybe Scientology... that was a JOKE!!  aarrgghhh!

If poetry is art (I rather think it is) then one purpose is to engage and provoke emotion - I confess that the first stanza is meant to engage the reader.. hhhmmm.. maybe too much? I AM a beginner.