all around the world

all these broken people

 
how many sticks and stones

all this earthly strife

when I look at you

I sadly realize

 
that I am broken too

 

              * * * 

    

 

falling over
the edge now
washed
swept over
the waterfall's lip
panic
still somehow
part way down
sorrow
we hope
perhaps an angel
will save us
from that cold
watery grave
from every impending
blazing inferno
here now
some raving
everyone craving
caught up
lashed to this hazy daze
being here now
our razed future
seems crazy
I can't see very far
so much smoke
muddled mirrors
obliterating order
reflecting burdened Earth
a black and white path
remittance is due
committed energy
our earth and home
a big part
this heady tome
even vampires
are seeking light
so many of us
sleeping in our coffins
so often wond'ring
if winter's dark night
will starve us
wand'ring
this deviant path
nothing straight and narrow
viral passive praying
all that feral trash
lulling us to sleep
bury fear deep in the earth
some are brave
but we are lost
sheepishly
having fallen
over the precipitous edge
relentlessly washed
tumbling in this current cataclysm
fumbling we wake
with this spiritual calling
more hope than dread
a universal godhead
like shooting stars and comets
every steadfast mystery
such awe
fire and water
such a terrible past
breaking us apart
burning us up
with rocks in our pockets
sinking fast
choking together
bequeathed liquid life
our iniquitous waterfall pool
beneath that glacial blue
the red die is cast
those ancient runes
and hollow bones
frowning together
grounding the fool world
the crowning sun
blazing past
rounding planets and moons
like some omnipotent mind
like some goddess tool
like some prophetic sign
that has us on the run

                * * *

 

time after time
ages past
today
maybe tomorrow
war after war
young men marching
into amputating battles
survivors wake
year after year
plagues of nightmares
tortured dreams
night after night
as epidemic war began
volunteers cheer
all those dying moans
the dead wond'ring why
old staid men
cripples by war
purity is a question
truth will never be known
civil war birthing civil war
bloody world battles
all that worthless placenta
branding men's souls
those colourful codes
bars of shining medals
embroidered and cast
for value added valour
how many dead
what about candor
how many broken lives
war starves the world
burn everything good and true
who said
let stinking war rot
bury war
beneath fields of poppies
bleached war
leached deep into the earth
where all things
consume useless
give in then out
shake up war
consummate
that worthless nature
an ageless nightmare
men still grow old
a million old victories
a quadrillion old tears
eons of spilled emotion
onto war's countless graves
all that worthless struggle
war destroying the world
politics and flags
still grow old

                * * *

 

love committed suicide
leaving bloody traces
spatters embellishing
my obituary attic
tucked under
a consecrated roof
congregated love
bled through
my desecrated ceiling
marking grave moments
pulsing critical emotion
fomenting tragic reeling
continuous pressure
hanging by an obstinate thread
dangling love's flighty things
rightly or wrongly measured
count every wrap
of the hangman's knot
justifiably
spooled figments
keeping us alive
but aloof
every love life
love's gore and strife
wrapped within
our mummified selves
righteous Isis
portent of herbs and phages
healing wounds
suicide's royal jelly
encapsulating sage life
professing every proof
galaxies of bursting stars
beneath every suicide roof

             * * *

 

images
of ourselves
no mirrors
would we see
inflexion
differently
could we
ever know
ourselves
indifferently
value added
to ourselves
perhaps the sun
will resolve
evolve
like some alien face
reflection
in a mirror
realizing
everything
is an expression
of nature
all those images
we hold so dear

            * * *

 

we're baking bread
we've added sugar
now the yeast
will rise
we're the multi-grain flour
kneaded
with salt
deep into the earth
as we're read
a new page
from an old recipe book
add free range eggs
perhaps a new chick
will develop
then hatch
pour in sunflower
crude oil
creating this viscous event
enough pure water
distilled
from a sacred spring
under the sun
all natural elements
so the devil's oven
is red hot
if the ocean
doesn't swamp us
if the sky
doesn't fall
perhaps bread
loaves and fish
and the sun
will continue
to have us rise
like yeasty bread
staff of life
staff of consciousness
history baked
into loaves
steamed into fish
every living thing
archangels burning
all this at stake
all that fire
all those sparks
a smoldering bed
the glow of dying embers
baking bread
so i've read 

          * * *

 

remembering
one foot
in front
of the other
things
aren't perfect
so many
rotten tomatoes
I've stumbled
through
tried
not to panic
most of this
difficult
trying year
I thought
2019
was hard
but now
2020
has tied me
to a stretching
rack
I'm here
but still
stressed out
by all
these sordid
anxious
vibes
world rhythm
is moving
to a different
drum beat
something
alien
a new frontier
this isn't
the enlightenment
of fire
but it is
sparks and embers
that have us all
mesmerized
as we wonder
how
and why
not
when
and where
because it is
here
and
now

    * * *