Wash the grass

 That sacred lamb
searching for a place
for a food source
a belonging

Jaw bent out of shape
bent words and eating habits
The fertilized grass
not fit for eating

Some apartment blue sky high
Some great book on business
regurgitated philosophy
A success snapshot

reading material for the staff
a half eaten meal
some fool washed the grass with slippery soap
The herd slid predictably down the treacherous slope

Like off a cliff
or an apartment building
no spirit to aim
somewhere hereafter

Those two doors in that life wall

 Two routes of life
One smooth and all pleasure, all the way through
god says hell

One route all paved with challenges just big enough
A utopian existence they say
God permits 

Two routes of life
One obese and oily during the long summer
Intense flavour yet long years of slow decay

One route trouble laiden
continued problematic existence, all the way through
God can giggle you know

Two routes of life
You decided to ignore one as it piled rocks into your ruck
You took the other with the extra weight

One route with no base for comparison
routine excellence and compulsive prepping
fixated on those goals that would be fruit

God loves your racket
God spends the currency in your drive
God gives permission old son

Your death apart

 I can see every part of you giving into the grey
I can hear it in your voice
In last months news that you recount for me once again
In the softness of your beard and life bruised brow
I can shake your hand and you can tell me something important

I can´t breathe to believe you´d really suffer
As you swaggered invincible most of your life
Yet you passed into the swamp of fear and confusion
And my goodbye was somewhere lost over the pacific
Sinking as you let go of your life

I accepted it all conforming to the low intensity emotion
Far from your deathbed as the world coughed and spluttered

Sermon on the deaf wind of Jordan

 From food inside our stomachs
Not keeping our appetite satisfied much
hands touch chest to be close to the heart boiling
Searching for purity when our emotions seem to be soiled

Hands are sent out 
On a mission to gesticulate
the essence of existence through limbs
through thought, through veins till finger tips
On mounds and dunes and readable lips

Oppressors seek compliance, servitude they want us to give up
Both like liquids being poured out of us as if we were cups
Not a drop to the front seat of prescribed importance
After the overdressed artistic conmen preachers
can you still see the eternal protoganist relieving our nightmares
Wet cloth on our brow toward the hours of need fright and fear

Gestures that grow into miracles
even inside our mind´s obsessions


 

The face of the desert

 Bleeding from his palms
ghostly face looking up from this pond
this oasis so many call life
Ghostly face solid against the sand
Transparent against the water

Lips like a love letter
Hair like a ship´s rope
Simon´s admiration
James`contemplation
The physical manifestion

sweat blends with tears
A strange ale Christ
Sweat in beads
Lakes and ponds across your
wind smacked face

Secret mercy in the desolate land
Where common man only sees lonliness
Where god hid unity
where things are clean and well placed
upon the sandy ghost face of sacred Christ

Pillars of society

 I can see you all smartly dressed for the school photo fakeup
Forced to be that excrutiating image and underneath the makeup
a subtle but rampant surface to air orgasm surges desiring to vent
Little perfection milestone forming structure of self important events
Well polished story gullible learning to interconnect superficial tea bags spent
This empty space for future rent, this steeple too lofty for a passover lent
The prayer pose of submission style in how you seductively repent

Your gymnastic ballet symmetry attention captivator, gracious pretender
An attempt at some clever extension of your careful gender
Danger in the very part of you that was recently mended

Nurse blight´s good intention

Be enough she said
As she fell from the rooftop
Be enough for yourself
A sigh of relief a second before impact
Half smile buried into the pavement
nurse served as a dessert

Poison me I jeested to the mirror image of her
Slowly through sunday lunch
Age the ony subject
The surface decay
A building with no possible renewal
Creaking under its own weight

Be enough she said
And be brave
As I looked up from a game of pretend
Shocked and shaken at how the world had shifted
Fingers pointed knives drawn
All grenade worthy cardigan wearing cannibals

Poison me slowly so I´m dead before the season end
All of these curious readers feast on this abstract eat a page remnant of me
The little value or short change god can still get out of me
Before he takes me in for a spiritual overhaul
creaking under my own weight
Dressed in the same defects
mistaken as a worthless bane