they turn on the stage
as the people gawk…
enamored with their lies…
both hypnotic and addictive,
they sell an American tragedy
complete with commercials.
the circus wheel turns,
and the roar of the beat
deafens all hearts to the truth.
while out on the street
human mouths bleed,
and the memory of the living
falls back into the shadows….
as great owls swoop the night!
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old men find stars
that young men never see.see years in every moment,and know to be silent.they know the futility of wars,and the bitterness of loss.they know how to be lovers,lost in every movement, every scent.they know about tears and touching,are familiar with the empty placedeep in your soul.they know about freedom and failure,hardness, softness, and death.old men say…
the small print
your trembling lips,stopped the tears,and the roar of hungerin the tiny bud opening.the tongue that gropesfor a dropp of rain…seed wrapped in dirt,that sunlight,and turning set free.the smallest things,bring form to shadow.it is in the smallest thingsthat we find the immortal!
whether it be
white and blackAsian and Hispanicman and womanor man and manwoman and womanrich and poorliberal and conservativeeveryone has the rightto love and be loveddiscrimination is wrong!
we speak of liberation and shudder…
without so much as a tear.trees shed their leaveswithout falling to their knees.rivers run for the sake of running.the wind comes from nowhere,bound for nowhere…never murmurs or complains.the snail crawls into infinity,leaving only a trail for the sake of memory.our grandparents long dead,still speak to us in our dreams.and the ocean that twas our mother,is…
capitalism…
raised against the childrenleft without a country!the fire never quenched,that consumes the nameless,and scorches the feetof those of conscience.the empty house padlocked,the stove unlit…the vampire kneelingbefore the cross of the lie!
september, and roses;
and the book never readstands alone on the shelf.the clock ticks, scrapingagainst the walls of eternity.part the Sea, or just walkon the water, what difference?lying naked on the rose petals,or standing in the unemployment line.the ghosts of Martin Luther King,Jesus, and that old catwho slept in my guitar case.every ordinary moment, holy!and small memories we…