Iron bench, open sore
dragon rock, three in score
flesh on body, tortured soul
arms high, in hell's hole

Corner bulb, neon light
drake hotel, second flight
jolly pop, rizla plus
open flame, behind the bus

Broken fixtures, tully hat
channel swimmer, at the bat
blind alley, words of cuss
dealer waving, in a fuss

Grim reaper, boys in blue
super bee, armored shrew
****** sips, swollen glands
potpourri, on demand

Black death, huddler's arch
beat the cold, and summer parch
toothless grin, ****** glare
obituary, to be shared

Dead of night, decontrol
cheeva tar, black coal
east central, chinatown
mr. freeze, is coming down

Foot soldier, skidder row
chicken feed, and white blow
silver spoon, casted hand
demons surface, on demand

Frantic sounds, below the glass
poison waiting, to be passed
crack pipes, over coat
bodies flat, begin to float

Gospel sounds, from union square
friends gather, deep in prayer
guardian angels, now deployed
thornton park, without a void

Covenant house, in holy charm
welcomes all, with open arms
salvation spreads, on chapel row
kindness that, cannot be sold

pidgeon

a test of self recognition.

A pidgeon holed soul,
in the dead of night,
left in the cold
to navigate through the night.

The hand that rocks the dovecotes,
armed to the teeth,
As they glide through at an altitude,
to find a relief.

My family sings from the trees.
Not me amore,
not me.
Some seek (sikh) reason
and some sing (singh) religion,
but the Guru has my back;
in these cuckoo times.
It feeds my beliefs.

I’ll symbolise peace,
Whilst you impeach the president.
I’ll deliver the message,
whilst you question the sentiment.

You are sitting in my spot love,
Rock dove,
derived lies from the questions we look above to find the answers.

Bobbing your head at the answers,
from those chancers in churches,
with sermons of purpose to scratch there backs and the surface.

Empty your pockets and empty your purses.

The worst is yet to come.

The mirror test my reflection.
The depths of inception.

Did I forget to mention the depth of deception,
i’ve drowned in daydreams,
from the gospels of deities;

so the story’s sold,
worldwide;
in different religions.

A thousand omnipresence beings,
but an insistance on only one who’s the holy one.

Unless you hit a hole in one,
lucky it seems,

It simply means,
a few billion ‘believers’
are on the wrong team.

Whatever way the pigeon flies tonight,
by default one of you is wrong, and one of you’s right.

I don’t believe in anything I can’t see in the daylight.

()()
()
()
~~
•

Last line

The old clothes

Hangin in the rain

•

The winds

The child cries

Cries and cries

•

Out on the horizon

Pidgeons circle looking for trash

And you are there

••

The young girl withers

She writes of death

She dies

••

Pidgeon **** upon the street

••

The ***** air

••

The love we never knew nor tried to find

••

And to think a god is there !

••

The rain

Pidgeon **** falling

Falling down

•

Falling down just like us