Crayons and colored pencils,
spilling waxen graphite blood
in collective pigment wars.
The box they fight in,
reaching a point of ruination
from the river shed within.

James E. Roethlein ©2021

Further down our rabbit hole
descending to free fall,
the abyss beckons
and there is no wonderland
(only the nine circles).
In these days of now,
dark waters (midst the mob
demanding justice done)
defends blade and bullet bearers
(bloodletting upon their own)
from the dam stemming the tide
of red rivers staining the streets.
We continue,
We continue,
ignoring the yesteryears,
and advance to soul oblivion
beyond our world's end.

James E. Roethlein ©2021

Rain and the Spanish Inquisition

Rain is the result of water in liquid form
descending from the clouds at gravity's behest,
and looking out the window at work
I can see it came down here rather than somewhere else.

Now my two cats, safe at home,
still care nothing for the weather outside
or the fact I didn't expect (like the Spanish Inquisition)
it to rain on an April afternoon.

James E.Roethlein ©2021

Seven Things Spoken

Seven things spoken,
three words for completion,
silence, then a cracking earth
and a temple veil torn in two.
James E. Roethlein ©2021

Thursday Night

Body-blood
wafers-wine,
praises turned crucifixion,
a mother's milk gone sour
to boil its lamb son alive.
We lament, and remember
(upon this Thursday night)
the actual retail price paid,
the victory won from defeat.
James E. Roethlein ©2021

Untitled

He feasts on arsenic
to finish his famine
and cuts himself open,
to bleed upon
any daring to approach
him in the aftermath.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021