Words

“You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him. But I tell you that men will give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.”    Matthew 12:34-37

When it comes to words
it has always been all or nothing,
words have been my best friends,
my only companions,
my slaves,
my sluts,
my bitches,
my lovers,
my fantasies,
my obsessions,
my masters;

my salvation.

I have used words
like a healing salve,
spreading them like butter
on unseen cuts and gashes
until there was nothing left,
a silent barrier
behind which I could bury
all the loneliness and tears;

words have been there
when there was nothing else.

Words should not be wasted
on summer roofing jobs
or dead Italian uncles,
but then again one MFA
is worth about 2 nights
in the gutter,
following 5 day benders
which you can barely remember,
or one week
in a cock-roach infested hotel,
with rats so big
they stand on their hind legs
and beg like trained circus seals,
all the while
daring you to do
something about it,
and all the while knowing
that you won’t,
it’s moments like that
when you understand words
you never knew existed,
words you will never learn
at Harvard, or Princeton,
or Vassar,
as you slowly sip a bottle
of Wild Irish Rose, or Thunderbird
or Mad Dog 20/20.

Of course,
I have used words to describe
every act of perversion,
every known degradation,
every dark empty thought
existing with the human soul;

so who am I to judge?

Words are clay
in the hands
of a skilled artist,
waiting to be sculpted
into an unknown beauty
that defies description,
they are the face
of a cruel tragedy,
beyond the limits
which our relatively simple minds
can even begin to fathom;

words are nothing,
words are everything,
by your words
you will be condemned,
by your words
you will be freed;

so choose your words
wisely.
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Frenzy

The storm clouds gather,
rising on the distant horizon;

this new place,
this other reality,
this far off land where
nightfall never ends;

what is left?
what more can be said?
does no one listen?
does no one hear?

does the madness never end?

Today I would have given
you everything,
yet nothing is all you took,
tomorrow’s troubles
bring fresh sorrows
all their own,
as freshly killed bodies
float like chum on the surface,
being devoured by ravenous lizards
frantically joining in the
morning frenzy;

I wish it were not so.

This life is no life,
it changes and rearranges,
ebbing and flowing,
never coming to completion,
creations of a creator,
children of light
trapped within the darkness,
temporary, transient
and conciliatory,
blinded to the truth hidden
before our eyes;

the great illusion
we choose to believe;

deceiving and being deceived,
wounding and being wounded,
hurting and being hurt,
feeding off the leftovers,
running for the scraps;

hiding within the cracks.
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American News

American News – proof that in today's age of sophisticated mass communications, if you say something often enough, or loud enough, eventually it becomes truth to many, whether it has any factual basis or not.

“Look at the nations and watch – and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.” Habakkuk 1:5


Will not all of them taunt him with ridicule and scorn saying, “Woe to him who piles up stolen goods and makes himself wealthy by extortion! How long must this go on?” Will not your debtors suddenly arise? Will they not wake up and make you tremble? Then you will become their victim. Because you have plundered many nations, the people who are left will plunder you. For you have shed man’s blood, you have destroyed lands and cities and everyone in them. “Woe to him who builds his realm by unjust gain to set his nest on high, to escape the clutches of ruin! You have plotted the ruin of many peoples, shaming your own house and forfeiting your life. The stones of the wall will cry out, and the beams of the woodwork will echo it. Woe to him who builds a city with bloodshed and establishes a town by crime!” Habakkuk 2:6-12

America has become a land of mindless sheep,
being led by corrupt shepherds
and hidden agendas,
blindly running to and fro,
searching for the latest ‘miracle’ cure,
spending all their time and money,
listening to anyone offering answers,
speaking lies disguised as truth,
slaves to their greatest fears;

a land beyond promise or hope.

Seeking shelter from the gathering storm,
not willing to accept the consequences,
unable to confess the guilt,
killing in the name of justice,
denying the greed and self-preservation,
turning a blind eye to the haves
against the have-nots,
deciding who is right and who is wrong,
who lives and who dies,
a land of hypocrisy and dry bones,
dying before they are dead;

trapped within chains
of their own making.
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No Mistakes

I lose track of the days,
in this life
that is no life,
holding on,
slipping farther away,
feeding hungers and lies
that know no limits,
desperately reaching out
for the truth that heals,
silently seeking redemption
in a ravenous world
that consumes
everything in sight,
speaking wisdom
as empty as the chains
with which it speaks.

Outside is death and mourning,
wailing and destruction,
but in here we are safe;

perhaps;

addicted to our deceptions,
our lies, our diseases,
deceived by our illusions,
trapped in the cages,
drowning in the cesspools,
surrounded by the swamps.

We make our choices,
we choose failure over success,
we cry and scream,
we search and dream,
but we make our own choices.

There are no mistakes,
in the end we become
what we are,
monsters of our own making,
creations of our own choosing,
monsters and demons,
basking in the warm, electric glow
of the sinister excitement,
living vicariously through
their evil existence;

we alone choose.

There are no mistakes,
in our ineptitude
we bumble along,
careening down paths
without a clue,
blindly searching for the truth
and light,
and sun,
and sky,
but there are no mistakes,
it is all as intended,
every word,
every second,
every moment,
every shit,
every fuck,
every amen;

there are no mistakes.
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And The Band Played On

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God – having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them. II Timothy3:1-5

Pain becomes the new laughter,
sorrow the flavor of the day,
hurtful words
the drug of choice,
lovers of self,
stone cold shells,
hearts of steel,
anything goes
in make believe worlds
where nothing is real,
sliding into depths
of decadence and decay;

and the band played on.

We soothe the fear
while hiding the emptiness,
making way for a tomorrow
full of distant despair,
time passes by,
madness breeds the future,
breathing life
into strange new creations
with no room for mercy
or compassion;

and the band played on.

We want reassurance,
we want good times,
we want vindication,
we want guarantees;

and the band played on.

Inside the flesh rots
like butter
in the warm summer sun,
continually searching,
continually seeking,
new horizons among the chaos,
feeding off the lust,
surviving on the greed,
drowning in the filth,
laying waste
to all that moves,
misunderstanding the new art,
and at the end of the day
emptiness all that is left;

sometimes survival
is recreation enough.

We live life in moments,
monuments frozen in time,
desperately holding on,
hopelessly watching,
slipping like smooth silk sand
through our porous fingertips.

We are flawed,
everyone of us,
it is not of our doing,
but we are flawed
just the same,
imperfections within the rubbish,
scarred bloody stumps
of all that we could have been,
all that should have been,
fit for nothing
but the furnace fire,
without defense,
without hope,
pointing fingers and shaking our heads,
feeling somehow superior,
above the filth,
better than the ‘sinners’,
but inside
we are all the same,
grubby little insects
seeking redemption,
crying out in pain
without making a sound,
tear down the walls,
never let them rise again,
replace the darkness
with the light,
let it shine into the cold
black night;

no matter how hard we try
we can never put it out.

Something is lost
within this carnivorous cavern,
prosperity weakens
in the face of disaster,
with destruction
comes renewal,
with death
begins life,
won’t You help me
find the door?
won’t You show me
the truth?
won’t You rescue me
from the storm?

Like a river it flows,
sometimes violent,
sometimes gentle,
on and on,
no beginning,
no end;

like a mighty wind it blows,
from here to there,
from where no one knows,
to where even less;

heroes and hormones never die,
they go on and on forever
in this wilderness where
the sun never sets,
inside hallowed halls of glory
filled with words of hope,
the midday shadows grow long,
the hunger remains the same
despite twists and turns,
assuming new shapes,
twisting and turning,
resurfacing in different forms,
the morning grows tired of the noise,
still it goes on,
flowing like before,
blowing into the night,
still it goes on;

no one listens,
no one hears.

Sleep well my friend,
the morning comes
soon enough,
the nighttime will fade
into the growing morning light;

and the band played on.

We hide inside our houses,
dreaming;
dreaming of the tomorrows,
imagining the possibilities,
running from the darkness,
mystified by the mystery,
trapped within the illusion,
waiting for the destination;

forever seeing,
but never knowing;

forever hearing,
but never understanding.

If it were up to me
I would stay in this place,
seeking shelter from the storm,
being swallowed up by the myth,
drowning in the depths,
growing cold from the emptiness,
guarding Your truth
like a rare and precious jewel,
but Your grace knows better,
You lead me past the mistakes,
through the traps and snares,
beyond myself;

and somewhere the band
no longer plays,
someday the light
will come flooding through,
providing vindication
for even the weakest part,
shredding the illusions,
destroying the misconceptions;

speaking the truth.
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Wept (Alpha)

As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace – but now it is hidden from your eyes.” Luke 19:41-42

I do not weep for the truth,
I weep because of the truth;

I weep for the futility,
I weep for the loss,
I weep for the waste,
I weep for the hopelessness.

I weep for the children,
I weep for the tragedy,
I weep for the sorrow,
I weep for the suffering,




I weep for the inevitability.
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National Health Care

Attention
my fellow Americans,
the government,
along with the leaders
of the corporate
and business world,
are working in conjunction
on a long term plan
to solve the country’s
current health care crisis,
and the solution
we have come up with
is called;

death.

Yes, that is correct,
it really isn’t such a bad plan
if you just take the time
to think about it,
you work while you’re young,
then when you get sick
or too old to work,
or require expensive
prescription medicine to get by;

you die.

It works for the good of all,
it helps keep America strong,
and that’s what we all want isn’t it?
and just think of all the good
it will do for the younger generation,
it will mean a constantly growing job market
(due to the high turnover),
and will save all the costs of Medicare,
which will free up a large chunk of change
for the national defense;

those cruise missiles aren’t cheap
you know,

and we all know that a good defense
is a strong offense,
and boy we sure do have
a lot of offensive plans
for the future,
now that we
have assumed the role
of world policemen (and women),
of course the growing military
commitments
will create many new jobs
for the young in and of itself,
so you see it’s all being handled,
nice neat and clean;

just like you
wanted it.

Now if those of you 55 or older,
or who are currently taking more
than 3 prescription drugs
could just report
to your local health department,
we’ll put this bold
and innovative new plan
into effect;

government officials and
the independently wealthy
need not report,
wouldn’t be good for the economy,
bad for job creation
and all that other bullshit;

you understand of course.
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