the crumbled streets of heaven,
destroyed by our hell!
in the end the end
is that which we bought,
for the simple price
of the human soul!
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we dreamed of god,
pointing,with dismembered fingers…prophesying,with bellies gorged!we kill that whichwe do not understand,that which we fear…that which most reminds usof something hidden deep within.is god made of stone?be there no remorse,no compassion, no conviction?even stone gods weep,who are we trying to fool?how many women and children sacrificed?a blood atonement…to whom?we wear the robes of judges,hiding the factthat…
kick down the door,
break the glass urn,blow the dust from the wings.touch the untouchable.feel the forbidden.what you taste in your sleep,is only you!strike a match to the walls,sweep your belongings to the fire.what is burned cant own you,the unbridled horse runs free!bite the neck of the lover,give way to the howl.the moonlight writes versesonly the darkness can see!
i used to think
but now i think maybethey smell like life;life lived, life experienced,life given, life worn…or maybe like a bridgethat hundreds have walked on,or the worn out shoesof the walkers…or maybe like the oak tree,just cut down,then left to age and dry outfor the fire…or maybe like memoriesof touch and taste…or maybe like a riverbed now dry,waiting…
standing in line at the mission,
the winter wind whips downbetween the buildings like a knife…pulling tattered coats tight hunching.and i can hear Shantideva whisper,his hand on the ladel…his body the meat of the soup,his blood the broth…‘these are my children! ‘….they walk in long staggered lines,refugees from the bombing…hungry scared children clinging,afarid to lose sight of…what’s left of their families.nothing…
Labor Day….
and cant pay the rent…lost my benefits,lost my house,cant retire,now or ever…cotton mills, furniture factories,truck driving, house building…cant afford to fill up with gas.run down trailer,better grow your own food.dont get sick,cant go to the doctor.they’re bashing unions,cutting unemployment off.cant send your kid to school,cant afford to be buried…those people in Washington,and those on the…
i picked up the broken pieces
and closed your eyesas you stared at the walls.i walked with you to the mailbox,day after day….i am the letteryour daughter never wrote.i helped you dig the holeto bury that old dog,and mouthed the words of the prayerthat no one heard.i walked with you down the aisle,the best day of your life.i helped your shaking…