Point Me

Point me where sins are forgiven
By a cynical atheist
Who insists life isn't worth living,
Sips whiskey, and pleads his arrest

Point me where the brambles grow
Among the flowers and ferns
Where they scratch your knees,
You didn't wear jeans because you never learn

Point me to the old woman
With a babushka 'round her head
Who has wise words of twists and turns
But never wants to leave her bed

Point me to the jolly man
Who dreams of joy and candy
But only because he drowns himself
In endless handles of brandy

Point me to the war veteran
Who is really a pacifist
And hopes for a day when he doesn't wake
Sweating, hands balled in fists

-M.J.B.

Reviews

[terry smith]

point me to the innocent child
with eyes open oh so wide
and has such a devilish grin
because she has not yet been
touched by sin

if you want to know how to live...forget the sages...look to the child :)