The Madness

A poem about the madness in the world.

The Madness

There's a madness in the church
It's in the coffers
And the sunday best
It resides in judgment
And patriotic christian soldiers
Dropping bombs on
Prepubescent iconoclasts
It is both paradox
And salvation
In both celibate mothers
And their virgin sons
Who have been
Forgiven by the sins of their father

There's a madness in the street
It's in glass on the sidewalk
And the body thrown in the river
It's in the tricks turned after midnight
In drunken stupors
And incoherent ramblings
In bathroom priests
And alley soothsayers
And sins forgiven by the needle

There's a madness in my heart
An infinite winter
Dusted over
Consigned to the grave
Only to describe
And not feel
To approximate
And never love again
Only forgiven by sins of the flesh
A product of a madness
Which has no beginning
And no end