even when
your soup is thin
love can feed us
hopefully something
vegetables and rice
a phenomenal onion
a nominal piece of beast
oh how can this
mucked up world
rearrange shear beauty
change to horrid ugliness
life rockets by
so comically fast
like brokenhearted Ophelia
speed drowning
quickly breathing in
all her liquid sorrow
prose without sick or warning
suicidal clouds rushed in
pushing away glory
shoving hope
into dark lonely corners
there might have been
innocence weeping and ignorance mourning
witness to those desperate dreams
even with horror arriving
delivering mindless desperation
choreography of physical pain
making what kind was
once beauty and divine
some culinary mistake
funnily mixed
fixed into something
devils relaxed and feasting
while spicy saints and herbal sages
pure vision with clear natural sight
go blind with revelation's fury
fight and fright into devil madness
suddenly that stewed up world
reflects a horrible moral story
something only nightmares
dejected beings imagine
providential subjects become
monsters in those storms
forgetting what they were
once upon a time
innocent children
happily remembering
how to play
feelings of security
 play was so much fun
hoping for tomorrow
friends basking in warm sun
yet somehow a mortal task
wretched blood and striking torment
hurt incessantly ragging
clawing at us all
we're crassly dragged
kicking and screaming
into some hellish place
don't remind me
about ghoulish treachery
terror and torture
everything just bloody cruel
as for disparaged liking
more loathing and wanting
daunting vengeance into despair
following senseless tracks
into the telling mud
variables within this crud
invariably life has something
if something was ever good
everything crazily melding
one faze into the crazed next
still some thin soup
broth remains wanting
boiled heartless stock
garnished with chopped stolen lives
a side dish of pickled shackled souls
some thin consomme
so much more than icky and fickle
sacred water trickling past
amendments to those boiling worlds
where toiling is about something
population itinerant enemies
what moiling might that be
if ever an army neutral planet
perhaps cleverly incorporated
mastering another beautiful world
casting karmic love
prepared with some joy
fiction beyond utopia
something that can
only be imagined
it seems featured life
walks hand in hand
marching with metered living
teetering constantly
reckoning what is gloomy
a looming precipice to hell
each strong telling wind
every vying nasty storm
drives innocence and forgiveness
stampedes compassion o'er that moral edge
that principled ledge implicating unsound life
utter mania pledged to become boundless
thus passion may be worthless  
fanatics being hopelessly groundless
we're stuck in deep ruts
try making everything appear real
feeling scared and short of breath
thin soup is an inkling
of stinking ways and dismay with decay
we've been consuming mud pie
as our nightmare dessert
so let's hope and pray for a new menu
management offering nutritious life
a savory main course
slurping up some rich soup
before taking in another breath
inhale life's delectable dessert
regaling moral right and left
failing rich stock soup
thin corporate soup
seasoned with corporeal death
relatively tasteless creed
attendantly reassuring naive life
faithfully force feeding
subversively amended broth
profit from sharp bits and jagged pieces
rendering truth as baseless
relentless action facelessly attracting
more thin soup
served with God's distasteful wrath

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