Babylon (continued)

Shadows

we sit among these growing shadows,

standing on the brink of an

unknown tomorrow,

hiding somewhere between

the darkness and the light,

safe within this land of

perpetual sorrow;

moments come and moments go

my dear one,

leaving only traces they were

here at all,

this moment we hold alone,

free from a land full of

killers and madness,

a world of defined boundaries

and limits,

designed to imprison all that live

within their deadly gates,

and to you do I say;

that it is better to lie here among these shadows with you,

than to walk among the light with any other,

better to have tasted your love even for a moment;

than spend a lifetime without it.

.

.

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Bureaucrats

bureaucrats always think

they are on the side of right,

no matter how wrong or unjust

that side might be,

never seeing themselves

through the eyes

of their victims,

never understanding

the rights of individuals,

over the authority of the system;

despots and tyrants could not exist

without their bureaucrats,

someone to stamp the orders,

file the paperwork,

ensuring the trains run on time,

to places like Auschwitz and Treblinka,

providing a well functioning

slave market to feed

the king cotton industry,

hiding the suffering and misery,

behind walls of official sounding

legal jargon,

vital cogs in the machine;

mindless,

robotic,

the darkness behind

the evil;

good people

just doing their job;

pathetic

little worms.

.

.

______________________________________________________________________________

Never Was

out here, in this wasted space

of no-man’s land;

no one hears the silence,

no one knows the loss;

alone and holding on,

waiting for imaginary rescues,

among lost and broken places,

hiding behind enemy lines,

crawling on hands and knees

in-between burned out bunkers,

full of dry, empty words;

never quite reaching the mark;

old debts return,

tears rain down like

sweet summer sweat,

holding on until

there is nothing left;

without a hope,

without a chance;

beautiful dreams like a river,

flow on their way to the sea,

dancing like butterflies

on the morning wind,

echoing sounds of magic

within the caverns of the soul;

sometimes the greatest love

is that which never was;

one more time,

traveling down this

long and lonesome road,

searching for a home,

inside lost and empty ruins,

running from fantasies that never were,

living within upside down dreams

which come and go;

over before it began;

my eyes have seen what others

have not,

my heart has known that

which no heart should.

.

.