a sound like christ
denying the pain
a cold sunlit morning
filled
with junkie priests and
shadow kings
the lie that all of these
wars are
different and not tied
together by the
same ropes of ignorance
and greed
and it was a mistake
i made once, not
numbering
myself among the cowards
it was my father who
showed me the light
knew we might not all be
nowhere
but we are all still
nothing
we are all the flesh of
god left
rotting at the freeway’s
edge
can’t spend our lives
being afraid
to dig for the humor
buried
down underneath
all of that blood-soaked
pain
No comments:
Post a Comment