Violence waits in the cold barrel of a gun
foaming at the mouth
waiting to erupt in a flash of anger
to pierce the unexpecting rhythm
of a heartbeat

too young to know
any of the languages of death
that will soon be spelled out
in the blood flowing from the holes
that bullets will bite out of its flesh

someone’s child smile will fade
as a mothers tears
will water a garden of grief
whose flowers will never go out of bloom

and in the silence of our complicity
we will pretend there is nothing we can do
but wait for the metal of the barrel to cool
as the violence continues to grow
as we quietly wait for the next eruption

Human existence
Is a story
Accident or miracle?
An accident, for sure,
But could it not be both?
We
Are alive
And so am
I
Something from nothing,
Is that not miraculous?
People talk a lot
About Human nature
As if We are The Stone
When We are The Mountain
Of The Earth and Our
Image in The Lake
Reveals The Truth of Gods
Our Dominion is the
Consciousness We give away
To get back when We
Know
So for sure
It does not
Work
Not at all like that
I will explain it
All for my child
Under the light of day
Make no mistake
We have Made this place
Where
Currency determines
Which of Us will ascend
And it has been
For me all my life
That's when I look at you
And see you for the first time
A piece of The Soul
Welcomed to an entrance
Among Our every new
Where Our Elders sit
In circles of no clarity
Selling songs, selling food,
Selling news, selling views,
Selling Us modes of Life
Pandered to preselected groups
Test and Market approved
And Selling it as soon as through
Our parents who Would
Paper Our deepest wombs

We can thrive as a planet
or die as a species
and our egos may argue otherwise
but it will go extinct and wither
quicker than our bones will dry
and all the false currency
we gave our time to
will crumble in its uselessness
as life will go on without it

and those who thought themselves
immortal under the grace of god
who thought their sins against life
forgiven by the repetition
of hollow words
while burning down
the home around him
will drown in the waters
of their meaningless baptisms
and life will go on without us
as it had before
and as it will long after
any memory of our existence
has any light or thought

and yet today we still breath
today there is still hope
still a chance
to thrive as a planet
to survive as a species
to stand against
the ego of our minds
and follow the wisdom
of our hearts

she said it was a ***** Martini
a filmy liquid poured into clear glass
squeeze bottles of Worcestershire, for ******-Mary,
squirted octopus ink into bleeding crushed ice
millions of dancing limes approve
as Vodkas crash to internal shores

she let us smell its fragrance
in the bottle's bottom depths
we drank her beer in ounces
'till a swirling straw bumped ice
there a vision reared it's carnage
with its alcoholic swage

she hovers by her register as the numbers button down
while the room spins after-hours in this other part of town
music plays within this cavern dim where tunes of rue elute
a she and he, to they were friends, days can end in Absolute
from hearth and work's alarm to roam at power's will
uptown/downtown skid row's tribulations till

absorbed in sorrowful rags, tears of strangers
wiped from countertop gouged by time's knife
slices of stories, jokes and anecdotes suspended
on racks above this bar's mirrored memories
hang on entrance door and exit's green light
arriving early after to leave too late

-cec