the borrowed heart,
spinning out of control.
the maddened push,
to go on and on….
the remembered tug,
after the moment’s gone.
the naked prayer,
the mirror of fire.
the hurricane
simply called desire.
the savage tear
that shakes the ground.
take the hand, give a damn,
cut the body down.
the stink of truth
makes the face melt away…
take off your hat,
empty your pockets and stay.
give all or nothing,
no time to pretend.
get down in the ditch,
and dig with your friends.
fed the hungry, healed the sick,and stood up and stopped all wars?what if you peeled back the mask of prejudice,and exposed the beating heart?what if you walked on the water?what if you built a temple,using only your own hands?what if you made your life a prayer?what if you gave all you had to the poor?what…
the small child looking upat you, wanting to bepicked up.the way sunlight danceson rain wet leaves.the person you bump into,that smiles with that lookof something they want to say,and you’re in too big of a hurryto listen.the old man in his rocking chair,waiting on you to call.the dog that rolls over,waiting on a belly rub.the…
be replacedwith ‘enslave’!the truth…often stinks!
walking down the street,and offered to pray for him….he turned and said:‘dont pray for me unlessyou have something i can eat…maybe a cup of coffee…and if you havent got anywherefor me to sleep… maybe,just a blanket, or a coat…’he thought a minute, and spoke again:‘i tell you what, forget all that….i dont want you to…
is not my preacher,poverty is not my brother.poverty is not my prayer,or the song that i singis not my answerpoverty is not my dream.poverty is not my teacher,not the hand that i hold.poverty is not my anger,not my spirit, not my soul.ah! but this poverty is realit races thru my mindcrashes into my heart,& leaves…
the faces of the poor,the soles of a rich man’s shoes.detainees caught and tortured,for freedom, or terror?the man with the gun,the baby in his mother’s arms.the house empty set ablaze,photographic ashes on the floor.soldiers sweep the building,mother and child hide in a corner….no letters from home,no home for the innocents.the river stopped with sewage,dead fish…
