please mr prophet man
tell me what is true
I hear some say religion
is good for you
but i’m not sure
when in god’s name
they tell me bombs
and bullets are the cure
poetry
happy new year
“What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.” (T.S. Eliot, The Gidding, V)
the guru
We bow our heads in quiet
servitude to the dust, our lips
form prayers to gods, who
long ago abandoned us.
We huddle together in a candle
lit room; frankincense, jasmine,
and sage, form broken patterns
in the air; amethyst rock, lapis lazuli,
crystal quartz, and rose guard the
four corners of the room, silent
sentries and witnesses to our gloom.
Here we try to replicate
perfect peace profound, but
how will we ever know peace
when we can’t recall her name?
We close our eyes to quiet our
minds and search for peace
against the turmoil of the day.
Eirene begins to cry, she knows
we will not find her here
among these relics of the past.
The guru takes the mic.
He’s seen the wondrous light
and has come to lead us there
to death’s dream kingdom.
His words, mellow and sweet,
strokes the back of our necks
and lulls us to sleep, and deeper
we travel to death’s other kingdom.
The guru licks his lips and passes
the offering plate around, let us pray!
The guru smiles, he knows we will
not see the light, how can we when
our eyes are closed?
stand together
The soldiers tossed the chicken
Bones, they didn’t like his politics.
Strung him up on a cross and
Gambled for his ragged clothes.
Cancel the Second Coming,
The church has decreed, no
Heroic figure can save us
From our avarice, lust, and greed.
The twisted logic of confrontation
And violence are meant to be
Suffered in silence, let the ruthless
Gain at the expense of the poor,
It’s what free markets were designed for.
The bishop takes the podium:
“Stand together,” he shouts, “Or
We shall all hang separately in an
Economic bubble we can’t sustain.”
A dictator disposed in the gallows,
They didn’t like his politics.
Strung a noose around his neck
Streamed his pictures across the Internet.
A mobile phone exposes the insanity
Of our tricked out humanity, evolved.
two
I am all men and no man
floating through space and time
looking to connect with those
Who want to connect, to know
another human being in this
soul sucking society we call civilization
Gone are the shackles
but slaves we still are
How clever, do you deny it?
I deny it everyday
but the fact remains
I am a slave who wants to be free
free to know you, free to know me
free to be who I want to be not
Like the men on TV
or like my father
or my father’s father
Freedom
What do you know about freedom?
I once fought for freedom
sacrificed myself so you could be
who you want to be
yet you still choose to be a victim
a slave to the system, like me
you let the beauty of the day
pass by your way without a smile
when did you last see the colours
of the rainbow mixed in a bowl
mingled with your soul and my soul
fragile and tender
I long to be you; I long to be me
our destinies intertwined,
laced with co-dependency
Our names whispered in the wind
written on a half forgotten dawn
I’d like to know you, be you, be me
Our souls dancing naked in the wind
naked and free to dance
through eternity