Saturday, December 31, 2011

Last Laugh

It’s not easy being a poet
who despises poetry,
one who believes 90% of all poets
are bullshit,
excited, snotty little shits,
so full of themselves they
can barely walk,
let alone write about things
they understand less,
poetry has become an abstraction,
a train wrecked shambles,
without rhyme but more importantly;

without reason.

I bought this journal and pen,
something on which
to write the new words,
the new thoughts,
a cornucopia of expression,
a symphony of sound,
a bright, white mass of exploding light,
a spattering of pure, unadulterated originality,
but now,
as I stare at these blank pages,
the realization occurs that
these new words,
are the same as the old words,
its has all been said
and said again,
used and reused,
just a different format,
a revised version,
only our simple-minded human egos
prevent us from seeing the truth,
let alone admitting it;

there really is nothing new
under the sun.

We titillate and capitulate,
until it all seems fresh and alive,
patting ourselves on the back,
creating monumental trophies and awards
for the same old bullshit,
reading the collected works of man
is like walking on a treadmill,
you struggle and work
but no matter how far you go,
in the end you’re right back
where you started.

Morrison had the last laugh,
he wasn’t a god,
not some mystic, warrior poet,
just a drunk who
liked to hump,
a degenerate,
a bold-faced, killer clown,
with the soul of a madman,
a pathetic little parasite
disguised as Adonis,
the ultimate masquerade,
yes, Morrison had the last laugh;

long live the king.
.
.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

There is No Fairness in Virginia

151 years ago Virginia fought a war, killing hundreds of thousands to protect their ‘right’ of self-determination as a state. They did so with no regard for the effects this ‘self-determination’ had on millions of people deemed less than human(by law) and therefore legally owned property. They did so to protect the interests of a relatively small group of wealthy plantation owners who stood to lose everything if the institution of slavery was abolished. They convinced the common folks of Virginia that this war was about ‘self-determination’, fairness and Yankee imperialism, but the bottom line is that it was really about greed and the desire to maintain a lifestyle which required a great deal of wealth. Their thinking was deceptive and backwards then and little has changed in the ‘Commonwealth’ of Virginia as far as the ruling class is concerned. Today there are laws and regulations in Virginia which openly discriminate against certain categories of individuals. This is not an attack on the people of Virginia. The people of Virginia are some of the most gracious, kindest, ‘salt-of-the earth’ individuals you will find anywhere on earth. Fair minded, loyal individuals who place their trust in God and government. In fact it is the basic fairness and sense of loyalty of the people of Virginia that legislators used then to fight a war and use today in a battle that still continues.

There is no fairness in Virginia,
sitting in their Richmond offices
like a brood of vipers,
hiding behind their chivalry,
their heritage,
their mollified gentility;

basking in their
‘moral superiority’.

Pompous bureaucrats
playing politics,
making self-serving policies,
passing discriminatory laws,
destroying people and lives
in the process,
then throwing up their hands;

“it’s the law”,
(we have the right).

All the time
smiling in your face,
using long drawn out
gracious words
dripping with hypocrisy,
stating well-rehearsed,
practiced lines,
providing legal and
self-righteous justification,
a soulless people
trapped within their
own self-deception,
blinded by their ‘right’ to do so
no matter what the cost,
trampling afoot,
those helpless to fight back;

a conquered nation
seeking revenge.
.
.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Christmas Past

I did a search on my data base for poems I had written with a Christmas theme and here are two I found. They were both wrote many years ago (at least 15), I had forgotten I had even written them. I am posting them with the hope that you will understand they do not reflect my life today. What I am hoping people will see from them is that even in the darkness the Lord was dealing with me, even if I did not understand or comprehend it. That He is there even when we do not know it, that He is waiting for us to open the door of our hearts and allow Him to come in and have fellowship with us no matter where we might be or who we think we have become.  On the eve of another Christmas, as we prepare to celebrate the birth of a Savior that most don't truly know or understand, my one hope is that everyone who does happen to read this will stop (even for just a second) and reflect on just who this man called Jesus really was. That you will turn off the tv, put down the headsets, and listen, really listen, for that small, still voice that calls within us all. He is there waiting, for you, for me, for all of us.

Not Often


I try to play by the rules,
but sometimes
I’m not even sure what the rules are,
and most of the time;

it doesn’t really matter.

There was a time
when it did matter,
but that’s just the way it goes,
the way it is,
inside I know it will pass;

as it always does.

The darkness draws close now,
closer than ever before,
enveloping me in its icy mystery,
as I no longer try to run
from its hidden secrets,
becoming one with its silky
sweet voice.

I remember Christmas Eve from the past,
when the world seemed fresh and sweet,
waiting for my dad to come home from work,
going to my aunt’s house for the traditional
Christmas Eve get together,
where my sisters and I would open one present,
all the lights out except those on the Christmas tree,
Elvis playing on the record player,
singing ‘I’ll be home for Christmas’,
wishing I could hold on to it
forever.

Sometimes I remember,
sometimes it matters;

but not often.
_________________________

Christmas Morning

Ah glorious morning,
the world holds its breath,
waiting for your wonderful moment,
searching for a glimpse
of your undeniable truth,
soon it will fade,
but for that one shining moment,
we remember,
and we see
with our hearts,
not our minds.

Soon the darkness will return,
the prince of this world
jealously guards his kingdom,
blinding the truth with words like
God and country,
waving his flags,
creating his heroes,
making that which is simple,
so very complicated,
making that which is nothing,
so very important,
keeping us apart,
confusing us
with his own deeds,
his own power,
justifying patriotic hatred,
creating racial separation;

ah but for a moment
we remember,
and we see
the peace;

thank you blessed king.
.
.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Cost of Living

What is the cost of living?

sadness,
joy,
sorrow,
suffering,
pain,
hopelessness,
satisfaction,
fulfillment,
emptiness,
loneliness,
death;

decisions made,
consequences paid;

for every breath there is a cost.

Evil in the name of righteousness,
hypocrisy in the form of light,
of such things are men made,
by such things do they fall,
standing fast on truths
they understand not,
blinded by sanctimonious testimony,
lost on roads leading to nowhere;

who shall pay the debt?
.
.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Rejoice

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4: 4-7

The cold black night quietly closes in,
the pain steadily intensifies,
blinding and overwhelming,
becoming more than I think
my spirit can possibly bear,
hope slowly fades,
rage fills my mind and heart,
bitterness and anger grow,
until it feels as though
I am about to burst,
the enemy silently waits;

ready for the final kill.

Then You reach out
across the long lonely miles,
using unsuspecting and unexpected messengers,
gently reminding me that You are near,
softly speaking words of encouragement,
renewing my faltering spirit,
providing new found courage,
making it possible to rise once again.

The pain begins to dissolve,
the darkness turns to light,
hope comes flooding in like a mighty river,
Your blessed peace surrounds me
like a well worn blanket,
the enemy retreats
back into the blackness
from which he came.

Once more You have delivered me
from unseen traps and snares,
once more You have brought hope
where there was none to be found,
once more You have saved me
through Your never ending mercy and grace;

I will rejoice in You,
I will declare Your wondrous love,
I will praise Your holy name,
forever.
.
.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Portable CD Players

Out on the front line,
(nights are the worst),
the sentinels stand watch,
waiting for the next attack to begin,
knowing it could be the last,
fighting to the very end,
ready to kill or be killed,
thinking about the girl back home,
or the wife, the two kids,
the car, and the house
with the white picket fence
then realizing,
that none of that much matters now;

dead or alive;

for the first time
I understand portable CD players
and headphones.
.
.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Cardiovascular Wars

Changes come,
swift and unexpected,
on calm, quiet, sunny days
so transient and fragile,
nothing is permanent;

except death.

And so it is,
you return home,
fresh from the cardiovascular wars,
having faced the beast
with only internal scars to show,
even though you know,
one battle does not make a war,
and in the end;

he always wins.

Now you take your place
with all the other veterans,
watching and quietly waiting
for the next one,
as you are slowly devoured
one artery at a time.
.
.

Pain In The Ass

My 4 year old grandson
is a little pain in the ass,
always looking for new ways
to get in trouble,
always wanting to do
exactly that
which you don’t want him to do.

He spent a week and a half with us
down at the shore,
the day his mom took him home
I bought him a Franklin doll
and a bag of candy,
he tore the hat off Franklin,
and when I tried to hug him goodbye,
he hit me in the mouth
with the bag of candy;

now it’s real peaceful and quiet;

I sure do miss that little pain in the ass.
.
.

Guidos On The Beach

Insomnia at the beach,
what a dangerous combination;

it all comes to an end;

vacations,
dreams,
youth,
life.

In the morning,
old lovers walk the beach,
holding hands
as young yuppies
ride bikes on the boardwalk,
jogging or walking very fast;
the important thing
is to look like you’re
going somewhere.

You can tell the Guido yuppies,
pulling their Guido kids in carts
behind their Guido bikes,
whizzing by at 50 mph,
straight ahead,
making everyone else
watch out for them.

Just a little house,
a boardwalk
and an ocean;

is that asking for too much?
.
.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

A Time For Everything

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil – this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him.   Ecclesiastes 3:1-14


No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.   Romans 8:37-38

In the early morning silence
You softly speak,
revealing mysteries and truths
I cannot fathom,
surpassing all my understanding,
that Your ways are not my ways,
that Your thoughts are not my thoughts,
that You are the vine
and I am just the branch,
that all my ideas,
all my words,
are nothing without You.

There is a time for everything,
a time to be born,
a time to die,
everything You do
endures forever,
nothing can be added to it,
nothing can be taken from it,
death does not end it;

nothing shall separate us
from Your love.
.
.

Friday, December 16, 2011

A Message For My Daughters



























Be young my darlings,
for as long as you possibly can;
reach out
and grab everything
there is to grab;
lay all your fears to rest
while there is still time;
never look back
with pity or regret;
be bold and beautiful
like the sun and moon;
shine like the stars
through the cold black night,
but most of all;

be all the things
I never could.
.
.

Small Minds

Small minds look for weakness
wherever they can find it,
it makes them bigger
than they really are,
more than they will ever be,
as they search for a home
that never was,
wandering like roaming gypsies
across desert plains,
mindless,
aimless;

doomed.

Time is not a friend,
it takes until there is nothing left,
leaving no trace,
destroying everything
in its path,
without witness,
without hope.

The enemy waits within,
silently ready,
alarmingly knowing,
gnawing away,
a growing whisper,
an unknown touch,
a dark, mindless shadow,
“just a little farther” it hisses,
just one more
momentary lapse longer,
just one small break in protocol,
better safe than sorry,
sooner or later
it comes to us all;

time is not a friend.

Small minds never journey
past the mistakes,
trapped by the insecurity,
lost within the fear;

forever stuck in the glue,
.
.

Somewhere There is Love/Somewhere There is You

Somewhere there is decency and goodness
amidst the evil and iniquity,
somewhere there is mercy and hope
within the suffering and doubt;

somewhere there is love,
somewhere there is You.

Where darkness is no more,
and light shines pure and bright,
where every tear is wiped away,
and fear fades like the disappearing night;

somewhere there is love,
somewhere there is You.

To You do I swear my allegiance,
in You will my life forever belong,
with You does my loyalty lie,
through You will I know no wrong,
the One who bought my freedom with His life,
the One who is my majestic Savior and King,
the One through whom all things flow;
the One whose praises I will forever sing.

Knowing You is worth more
than all the riches of this world,
to be where You are,
is the greatest gift one could ever receive.

Teach us Your ways,
guide us as beloved children,
pour out Your Holy Spirit on our heads,
bathe us in Your brilliant light,
fill us with Your precious love,
show the entire world Your magnificent glory,
let all creation praise Your wonderful name,
let every knee bow and every tongue confess
that You and You alone are Lord and King;

somewhere there is love,
somewhere there is You.
.
.

Raise Me Up

The time has begun, today shall be the day, now is the answer, here in lies the way.

In the morning when I rise,
You are there,
softly speaking to my soul,
quietly humbling my swollen ego,
making me understand
the glory and magnificence
that is Yours alone,
throughout the day,
as my tongue speaks foolish vanities
and my mind thinks
self-absorbed, hate filled thoughts,
You softly remind me;

gently rebuking,
patiently teaching.

Raise me up O Lord,
help me to stand,
fill me with Your Holy Spirit,
consume me with Your wondrous fire,
surround me with Your marvelous love,
reach out with Your mighty hand,
cleanse my filthy garments,
heal my damaged soul,
remake me in Your holy image;

remove anything not of You.

O magnificent Lord,
Light of heaven,
King of the universe,
Savior of the world,
let every voice
sing praises unto You,
let every breath taken
glorify Your precious name.
.
.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Nun

I seek you out,
like a beast in heat,
blindly,
passionately;

without question.

The smell of your
womanhood,
with all its
mysterious excitement,
driving me to madness,
basic instincts more powerful
than society,
more overwhelming
than reason,
more satisfying
than life,
sweeter than the sweetest
night.

Come,
sit with me,
let me whisper
in your ear,
alone in our bedtime chamber,
lying before the burning fire,
glowing with the heat
of a million naked souls,
lay your tired head
upon my breast,
I will soothe
and make you forget,
taking you
to new and unseen worlds,
where together
we shall rule over
all that moves,
all that feels;

all that loves.
.
.

Sweet Mystery

Cold hunger moves on,
forever searching for sacred omissions,
upon which scattered ambitions lie waiting,
reaching farther for just one moment,
where refuge may be found.

It is here we make our final stand,
alone and unafraid,
the outcome already decided,
by rhymes and reasons
beyond our ability to control.

Standing still,
holding our breath for worlds unseen,
giving it up at bargain basement costs,
then wondering why it is
there never seems to be enough
to go around.

Ah yes,
here it comes again,
sweet mystery,
smooth like silk,
how much more can be absorbed
before slipping into the endless dream?
.
.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

South Dakota Cowboys and Other Chance Encounters

Out on the open plains of South Dakota,
a man might still have a chance for dignity,
if he can survive long enough
to overcome the shadows
stirring within.

It is a simpler way of life,
trapped inside a play station world
where television and X-boxes rule,
full of emotional ties
and endless compromises,
traveling south down highway 61.

It’s not for everyone,
in fact, it’s hardly for anyone,
but the few which have no choice,
those who did not escape
so many years ago,
while they might have had a chance.

But still we are what we are,
and in the final analysis
that is all that ever mattered,
even as the ship upon which we ride
slips slowly past the point of no return,
.
.

Change is never easy,

freedom does not come

without a special sacrifice,

the price of an authentic life

is often more than one can bear.

An Excuse

America loves war,
it is our passion,
the foundation
upon which we were built,
little boys play two things
growing up in America,
sports and army,
every great American hero
was a war hero;

think about it.

Our entire culture,
everything that we are,
is built upon war
and the principles of war,
the revolution,
the civil war,
both world wars,
Korea,
Vietnam,
to understand America
you must understand one thing;

America loves war.

It is our passion,
our foundation,
our pastime,
so the next time
you want to fly airplanes
into our buildings
and kill innocent lives,
just remember that one thing,
and ask yourself one question;

do I really want to give them an excuse?
.
.

First Good Day

It was the first good day of spring,
warm but not hot,
a mommy holding her little boy’s hand,
while daddy puts his arm around their little girl,
going for a walk kind of day.

Broke out the grill for dinner,
barbecued some chicken and a leftover
london broil,
felt the warm sunshine and light cool breeze
blowing softly on my skin,
it was the way a day should be;

calm and quiet.

Even some of the pain felt less,
but not completely,
warm sunshine and light cool breezes
are never going to take that away;

completely.

She sat beside me as I wrote,
neither of us saying a word,
we never do and sometimes
that says a lot;

but not really.

Yes, it was a very magnificent day,
the kind of day during which
a person could lay back,
take a deep breath and
die;

and feel very okay about it.
.
.

Friday, December 9, 2011

fairy tales and other myths

everyday
you try to get
better,
everyday
you stand up
and begin
again,
but the best
is behind you
now,
there are days
when you are sure
you will never
make love
again,
and more still
when you just don’t
care,
the music fills your brain
until you begin to
choke on it,
as you reach for the comfort
which is no longer
there.

3 in the morning
never felt so cold,
on dark lonesome Fridays
when everything
that once made sense,
falls away
into lakes and valleys,
where hidden monsters
lie patiently in wait,
and it is here
that you belong,
it is this
that you have sought,
so now
shall it be,
the ultimate loser,
in the final loss
of a game
being played
on foreign fields;

where you never stood a
chance.

she has taken
the one thing
which might have
made a difference,
with impossible promises
and broken truths,
as it all begins to come
together
one more time;

closer,
nearer,
quieter,
silently,
gone;

and you think inside,
if she just walked
through that door,
you would love her;

forever;

but happily ever after,
exists only
in fairy tales
and myths.
.
.

Part of the Cost

Southern boys like their trucks
clean and sweet,
moaning and groaning,
like fresh young virgins
on warm Saturday nights,
dreamers dream,
lovers love,
sleepers sleep,
inside we all silently weep;

part of the cost,
part of the loss.

Kingdoms crumble,
melting like sand castles
beneath mighty ocean waves,
crashing violently upon
white sugary beaches,
stranding aqua blue jelly fish
for all eternity;

part of the cost,
part of the loss.

Haughty, petulant children,
searching in vain
for honor and truth,
hidden among ruins and ancient halls
of perfect darkness,
never finding,
never knowing,
never understanding;

part of the cost,
part of the loss.

So many memories,
so much lost
along the way,
hanging on,
holding on
with everything we have,
but in the end
they fade away
like the early morning mist
before the
noon day sun,
and all that is left
are echoes,
silently bouncing
off empty
forgotten walls,
there is no hiding
in this solitary world
called life,
no sanctuary,
no turning back;

part of the cost,
part of the loss.

Through it all,
You continue to look down,
through it all,
You stand by my side,
You are the beginning,
You are the end,
You are all there is,
do not leave me here Lord,
do not forsake me,
hear my plea,
forgive my transgressions,
deliver me from evil ways;

bring me home to You.
.
.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Power

For the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. I Corinthians 4:20 (KJV)


For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. I Corinthians 4:20 (NIV)

Your power is beyond all
that this world can comprehend,
like a philosophy or psychology
we try to minimize who You really are,
sweeping You under man-made rugs,
placing You inside man-made boxes,
trying to restrain You with man-made
laws and traditions,
never understanding,
never knowing,
never able to fully acknowledge,
that everything we are,
everything we know,
exists only by Your
unfathomable mercy and grace,
through the unlimited power
of Your Word alone,
that every breath taken is a gift,
which can never be repaid.

Through the power of Your Holy Spirit,
You give me a taste
of a world free from sin,
a world of love and hope,
stripped of all its suffering and fear;

without hate,
without lust,
without greed.

Through the power of Your Holy Spirit,
You help me to understand,
You help me to see,
a world which my mind
cannot fully grasp,
an indescribable place
prepared from the beginning
for those who love You,
a world that leaves me humbled,
perfect and pure,
without words,
a world where I can only
fall down before You;

my Lord,
my Master,
my King,
my Everything.
.
.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Soon Enough

My words have never put food on the table,
never paid a mortgage,
never provided a day of rent,
never influenced a generation,
never brought tears to the eyes of angels,
never made a difference to anyone
but me;

and I never listen
to them either.

They have always been just words,
never anything more,
never anything less,
never something
worth suffering or sacrificing for;

never something worth dying for.

They have never been anything more
than a minor inconvenience,
stroking inflated egos,
impressing weak-minded women,
influencing over-bearing idiots,
a litany of unimaginative wit and charm,
famous for their infamous demeanor,
nothing but meaningless dribble
on a cold March morning;

nothing more than a
damn crying shame.

The hunger consumes,
the hunger divides,
conquering divisions and rifts,
preying upon empty skeletons,
alone and unprepared,
empty and afraid,
soon enough it will come,
just as you always feared,
soon enough you will be
right where you belong,
right where you were meant to be;

soon enough.
.
.

Lil Bitches

Words can make people come alive,
words can cut and kill,
sometimes, words are all there is,
other times, words are never quite enough;

words can mean everything,
words can mean nothing at all.

For someone who prides themselves,
on their ability to manipulate
and massage words,
I haven’t been very true,
I have left my first love,
I have abandoned my calling,
I have taken my words for granted,
thinking that they
will always be there for me,
but this isn’t always so,
you have to guard the things
which are precious,
you have to hold them tightly,
like a schoolboy holding
his best girl,
or they just might walk away,
when you least expect it,
never to return again.

The best ones always walk away,
they never hang around long,
so you have to lay them down quick,
make love to them
while they’re in the mood,
dance with them
while the music’s playing,
stroke their hair,
whisper and cajole,
while you have the chance,
even if it’s in the most public places,
even if it’s not politically correct,
otherwise they walk,
and they never come back,
never;

the damn lil bitches!
.
.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

3D Images

Yesterday
I actually saw it,
I was beginning to think
that perhaps there was something
wrong with me,
but then
there I was,
sitting in the dentist’s office,
staring blankly at the image in front of me,
when it just appeared,
I think my eyes were slightly crossed,
you can’t imagine the relief
it made me feel,
like a member of some secret society,
like some ancient holy man,
I wonder if it was the same
for the prophets?
of course
they probably didn’t have
3D images back then,
but still,
it’s good to know that you’re normal,
the next time you’re at the mall
staring at one of those things,
and some lady next to you
says to her husband,
“See it honey, see it?”

Now at least
I can say
I saw it once.
.
.

The One I Praise

Heal me, O Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise. Jeremiah 17:14

I have traveled so far,
still I return to this place
where I once began,
this land of degradation and pain,
this unknown world,
where darkness and silence
live hand in hand;

I have traveled so far,
yet have I gone nowhere?

Deliver me O Lord,
do not give me more
than my broken spirit can bear,
do not leave me here
to face the enemy
I could never overcome alone,
in You will I place my trust,
in You will I have my hope,
in You will I find my salvation;

in You will I find my rest.

Touch me that I might be healed,
turn me from paths
that do not lead to You,
teach me how to walk in Your light,
test me that I may be confirmed;

for if You heal me O Lord,
I will be healed,
if You save me,
I will be saved;

for you are the One I praise.
.
.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Mystery

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:10-12

There is a mystery here,
whispering through the swaying trees,
singing over the silent rocks,
flowing with the mountain stream,
gathering in the darkening clouds,
all around the battle rages,
quietly waiting,
unseen, unknown,
beyond sight,
beyond touch;

beyond understanding.

Cool, gray December skies,
dull, hazy, low hanging sun,
Friday afternoon school bus,
delivering mediocrity and weekend misery,
never quite sure,
fading within the moving shadows,
rising from the wavering depths;

I remember it well.

Slaves to what we see,
what we hear, what we feel,
all the time seeing nothing,
hearing nothing,
feeling nothing,
mirrors and smoking guns,
illusions and disappearing truths,
cheap parlor tricks played out
on slick talking talk shows,
here today,
gone tomorrow,
the war never ends;

the enemy never sleeps.

There is a mystery here,
it remains long after the screams
have all died and slipped away.
.
.

Followers

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