and so you follow war
to the brink of your own
extinction!
yet the mouths of the souls
that you starve and slaughter,
speak the names of the god
that you’ve forgotten!
she answers with faces,
faces you choose not to see!
you dig the graves of your children,
to feed the beast within!
you arm yourselves with moral justice,
dress the lie in prideful prejudice.
but the howl in the night
is not the wind!
it is the cry of the blood
on your hands!
actions, or even worse, inaction,contradict it!we are what we do, what we give,and where we are standing at theend of the day…we all make mistakes, we all failon occasion, (i may be the worst!) …but the mistakes and failures dontdefine us… how we react to them,whether we take ownership of them,and what we do to…
heal the sick?give solace to the lonely?find housing for the homeless?help save the rain forests?help save mountains and riversfor my children’s children?stop the killing of whales?the killing of women and children?help eradicate prejudice?stand for freedom and dignity?bring hope to the hopeless?well… will it?
the right or left?a leaving of the past,and all its baggage?a fresh coat of paint?a new lover?the death of a friend?seasons pass to seasons,and then return…changing, or evolving?maybe an endless cycle!where are we going?do we know?do we have to go?will it be better or worsewhen we arrive?what are we looking for?are we the picture,or the…
left on the pillowwhere you laid,the turning whisperof the kiss betrayed,left by the doorstepwrapped in brown paper.the small hint of dampness,be it passion, or tear…the sudden longing intense,as if the world stopped turning…loving, burnt…
listening to the prayersof the dust on the window.the house empty of all that breathes,and ghosts just dont eat much.while missiles born of hate,throb, seeking direction.and religious poverty moansin the gutters of man’s denial.hands balled in fistscannot open doors.and nuclear lightis just a damned lie!rivers vomit, great trees are cut,empty plates rattle pointing fingers.and turtles…
