A good church is a cord connecting a community
God's umbilical cord connecting humanity
like the cords connecting the computers, cameras and microphones
the AV team meets every week to uplift a hundred seats
before worship practice starts they connect with one another
providing lines of praise and prayer tracing their hopes and fears
running diagnostics
checking the cords connected to instruments,  lighting, earpieces
removing the frays and knots
because the sermon runs smoothly when all the cords have been checked
the cords run throughout the church and up the band's spines
the voice of God lets them know they'll be playing the bridge again
so everybody throws up their hands and sings along
their vocal cords trying to hit tonal chords
cords of water connecting eyes to mouths shows
the congregation is plugged in
because the cords have been properly checked.

Sorry
I didn’t mean to be rude
or offensive
or to harass you
I know it’s not polite to stare
but just so you know
not everyone staring at you thinks you’re **** as ****
and if you must know
I wasn’t staring at you because you’re beautiful
I was staring because you reminded me of someone I once knew
who was **** as ****.

How do we fix this? What can we do?
The answer stands impatiently in front of humanity
echoing how each person must always become better
but then the question becomes
what is better?
Something learned along the way.

"From the depths
of the mirror,
a corpse gazed back at me.
The look in his eyes, as they stared
into mine, has never left me."

Closing the book I looked at the cover,
Night by Elie Wiesel. Averting my eyes
from the book to my teacher, she stares

at the class in profound silence, then she says,
"There's something very similar happening in America
today." I was shocked, I couldn't believe it took me until

middle school to hear about this. My ears perked up in morbid
curiosity as the other students nodded making me feel like a *******,
"Abortion." the teacher stated with lofty arrogance as I breathed a sigh of relief

encouraged by the banality of right wing indoctrination replacing revelation
of more senseless slaughter. I didn't watch Fox News, I didn't know I was
supposed to hate abortion and Dr. Tiller; that's where Elie Wiesel and

teacher come in. Elie Wiesel wrote a book that makes people want
to change the world, my teacher narrowed it down to the target
in her crosshairs. Tiller died a few years later, Wiesel died

several years after that. My old middle school teacher
is still alive using books of the dead to demonize the
living for demanding demonetizing democracy

until malleable minds are mangled
shifting their forming mentality
into one as narrow as hers.

Vultures draw circles in the sky
tracing the paths we run
concentric predatory perimeters
paralyze prey with peril
ping pong eyes pogo up and down
trying to detect fine print consignment.

Squirrels keep their head on a swivel
tightrope walking on telephone lines
or traveling along the branches in canopies
avoiding the ground with suspicion
of sentinel snakes slithering in the soil.

A contract is written in a newborn calf
standing up and beginning to graze
innately aware of wolf rescissions
and tornado trials.

Cephalopod ink spills on the page
tyrosinase blinds the opponent
suffocating in a dark cloud
while the octopus escapes
to grow into a Kraken form.

So eyes dart back and forth
reading back the record
of a jungle mentality
wandering high
to avoid predators below
and an ocean turning black.

On a garden tree of hardened leaves
slithers a centipede anemone
claiming to be a friend of me
sprouting wings splendidly
flying to the Nth degree ahead of me
until I can no longer see
where the wronger flee
behind a Chris Pronger screen
giving me the stronger steam
to bomb the seed.

It's time I sail away
You've given me validation
But I must tide the wave
Of my salivation
With separation
So I pull the anchor
To embark on my journey
On an oil tanker
That'll likely start burning
Around the corner I'm turning
Trying to get off your gurney

I see serenity
Ahead of me
Beckoning
And lessening
Your deafening
Reckoning
Nagging incessantly
Like a referee
After ******* me
Recklessly
You wouldn't set me free
And got the best of me
But that let me see
I could barely breathe
Under your tree
So the way to be
Is separately

Your chaos blocks me from peace
I'm falling out of Heaven's reach
Marooned on your beach
Where you continually teach
Me to practice what you preach

I'm trapped in Dunkirk
With my stunned hurt
From your gun spurts
That would come first
Before quenching one's thirst
So you always won worst

I'll burn with rage
Until I turn the page
From this infernal mage
And his hurtful cage

I need to find a boat
To cross this moat
Without getting soaked
By your quotes
And your jokes
Making me want to come back
That'll just be another attack