Himself/Herself through
infinite forms.
how dare we differentiate
between the sacred and the mundane!
if you want to see God,
look around you!
if you want to feel God,
touch the earth…
touch the hand of a stranger.
if you want to know God,
live!
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the old blind dog curled in the memory of….
the blade held steady against the turning wheel,while armpits leave paragraphs for simple gods.there is no gunfire here,only the sound of haunted church bells,and the gnawing of hunger in hand me down jeans.the scent of black coffee and borrowed cigarettes,and the lie of random snowflakes.whose voice beneath the ground?even the streets shudder with need.the pimp…
dont call my name anymore.
no more churches, temples, and mosques,the wind has no need for a home.no more battles or wars in my name,no more judgements bound by your fears.no more talk of heaven and hell,till you walk the path before you.for as long as you killto feed your greed.as long as you allowchildren to go hungry.as long as…
the stranger arrives,
his smell like rain,and something else.his soft insistent knockrings like a bell,his hand on the knob…can you hear?the sound of his footfall….tis but death come knocking…he brings no baggage.will you open the door?
we make love
underneath a tin roof…your body praying for rain.or perhaps it’s just delusion,or memory twisted by passion,or what an old man settles forin the echo of his life!kissing’s like undressing,slowly turns the spit,not conscious of mirrorsor the need to hurry….soft words almost forgottenfall like stones in a bottomless well…and the only cry of passionis the hawk…
the quickest way
…..into violent rebellion,is to attempt…to violently suppress it!every action..creates a like action…the surest way…to make freedom stand up……and fight,is to fight against it!you cannot put out a fire……with gasoline!you’d think they would figure this out!
urine stained sheets
gnarled old handsand kerosene feetcheck comes once a monthonly lasts for a few daysa bony old catand cracked windowpanesend of time, end of daysonly the strong will survivecall it justice, the American waycall it the great liecast off, used up, and spentthrown to the sideexcess baggage, human garbagealready dead, waiting to die…baby crying and coldroaches…