Tag Archives: hypocrisy

Twelve Star Crown

Foothills of the Rockies on the edge of spring.
Driving through for two days, under an endless
blue sky and beneath stars unnumbered,
and with Revelation on CD, over and over and over.
The Red Dragon is up there in the sky, and The Woman
has those twelve stars on her crown, and I see her running
and I see angels wings grow to take her to safety, and I see
that her Son will be born, and maybe he will wipe away our tears,
and wipe away the ones I’ve cried over you.
It feels like the end of time, and what does losing you matter,
when The Red Dragon is paying off his legions with hate to come
for all the broken and under the heel, and we’re on opposite sides,
but we both saying we’re fighting with angels, but my love, my love,
you carry a gun and hold the hand of the one that Mocks Your God.
The wind is bitter still, and I can’t let it throttle the beleaguered light,
let it blow out all the love I have for this world, or for you, still, still.
If you worshipped a God of Love, why did you side with the monsters
who demean and degrade and speak of Faith through gritted teeth
and clenched fists? Are we not all His Children? Are we not all one blood?
The flood didn’t take The Woman, may tender hearts swallow up the deluge,
and may there be a glowing city one day, no more night, only the warmest light,
and all this pain and hurt and hate and sorrow be wiped away, as we are children
again, living forever, clean and whole. You turned your back on me, turned me away,
but I want to see you there, without the burning hate. I want to hold your hand in the sun.

Advertisements

Dead of Night, Almost Christmas

Dead of night, almost Christmas,
when The Messiah was born.
Scripture said, the angels announced
to the shepherds: “Come and see!”
And here I am, out in the night,
with nowhere to go that’s safe,
drinking fast food iced tea,
in a parking light of an all night store.
The lurid lights, the phony cheer,
the talk of brotherhood that’s empty,
when the world’s burning and God
is invoked to put the weak upon the fire.
Tax collectors, prostitutes, lepers,
the sinful and fallen and left behind.
Those He touched, He healed, He sought out.
The ones like those here, are left to burn.
The say He was born in a stable, laid upon
the manger, a humble child, poor family.
On the run soon after, a stranger in the world.
A poor prophet, executed for his powerful words.
His children yell: “It’s Merry Christmas asshole!”
and lose their shit over coffee cups, petty ass shit.
So lost, so angry, and I almost turn away forever,
but I remember the love I feel, touching His face.
He came for me, for us broken, left behind.
Now, will He chase poison from powerful souls?

Concrete

The righteous young woman, from that haughty sect

that sets themselves apart, dress the women in white robes,

stood their among the cluster of other women in her band,

long golden hair in a ponytail, staring me down with fire

filled grey eyes.

In the ether realm, in the realm beyond the sun and flesh,

she carries a sword all afire in honeyed flame, that she stole

for herself from a bored, disinterested angel more interested

in fucking human woman and shaking down the lonely

with false hope that he would fight for him.

She stares me down, cleansing hellfire in her grey eyes,

knowing me, knowing I am not so different, so good as

I have made them believe or dream I am, and I feel that

sword pierce my heart, and her hate, and it’s flames

burn right through me.

A smirk crosses her thin, pale and unadorned lips as she

leaves me behind, as her cohort of Christians crosses the

street as the light changes and I see the hunger to devour

all the lust and greed and cruelty, that living among her kind,

she knows all too well.

A month later, I would see on the news one Saturday morning,

as I was halfway to despair and elation from a sleepless night,

where Roxy and Sam spoke to me of things hidden in the air,

that she had taken a shotgun and killed all the men in her sect.

“God was away, and someone had to make them pay.”