one Sunday morning in the year of our Lord

rain stuck in the gutter mud needles even glittered pine cones from Taiwan congregate in rubbish soup
lines long at city hall and the soup kitchens too Star Bucks forget it i might as well be gone
yet i love her like a mother loves her son when the battle of the souls is lost
pinpoint to the time when spewing truths out of our lungs picket signs pro this con that
here we receive old boxes filled with wasted time to keep forever under downpours of collective pain

philosophical phunk

the mind collapses violently the carnival of lies that entertained the young impressionable life suffered

a tear in it’s now rotted penetrable fabric cross stitches erupted with the weight of

boiling hot sin and the anger of the soul possessed by ignorance in the ultimate

court we will know who are the innocent Dante and i sipped old world rye

while we waited for the master of ceremony G Scott Heron to update us on

the state of the revolution and how the forests are ablaze and man stuck in

a maze of filters and face lifts and corporate octopussed armed megalomaniacs are worshipped for

curing babies to work the mines lest you forget not even you can nourish your

carcass on diamonds so we sit while the crowd let’s out

Ixchel’s children

bury me standing feet
rooted nowhere sleep eludes
me walking forever before
Cain’s sin gave rise
to grief that flows
my blood in history
am i not a
star child too nomad
in the mystery of
God like child in
birth to surf the
skies where serpents lay
in slumber this universe
was made for multiple
stars to shine at
smiles so bright that
return the favor blindly

can’t figure out

why we dream so distantly where the planets question who we are

black holes surrender in perplex look at each other in their deep blue eye

and say forget them

could be that in Tennessee my heart i left there beating

nature are you a conscience forcing me to look at the destruction of the muffler in my car

this morning she a strange lady clutched me in a surrender of half breed slumber

children screaming for their cereal and when i come to they were asking for some pop