Lush Wild Grass

in

the

hustle

hunted

 hush

 

my mind

  sits at port

waiting for smooth passage

 

in

the

green

glass

gleam

 

of paradise

waters

 

there is a

  fresh essay

waiting to swallow

me whole

 

I feel it lurking

like a ghost dream

beneath tidal forces

 

a glance that holds a thousand emotions

 

 a fuse that ignites explosions

 

  fire me   up

 

 I want my disruption to influence

 cramped

    corners

of

corrupted corporations

 

assail the artificial

 

I can see the green grudge

 power strike trying to possess every person

but life is more than dollar bills so why does it govern the world?

 

only here does an honest, true man

have to run like a paranoid fugitive

and

slip

down

into

the tunnels

 

then

 

back up the stairs

 

and

 

make

 

a

 

daring

dart

into

the cynic's ditch

 

head held low from every zinging bullet

 

no foothold can be trusted

 

astute eyes can burn right through the artificial

 

flog the rebels openly in public

 

political leaders are so blatantly and obviously corrupted

 

whose

heroic

hermit

 heart

feels

like

going

down

the

mountain?

 

savor the last sight of

lush wild grass

and

molten

wild flowers

 

think of her happy-go-lucky eyes

hinged into yours

before they drop the final hammer

flexible

conifers

litter the home

you abandoned

 

one more explicit verse

travels unscathed through the cynic's ditch

 

and

then

vanishes back into granite

 

maimed civilian bodies stacked in heaps

that bulldozers push carelessly into pits

represent the slaughter

close your eyes

and

dream moist lips

home to yours

and

kind words that give you strength to face the crucible

 

in

the

hustle

 hunted

hush

 

it's ok

to dream of smooth passage

in the green glass gleam

of paradise waters

 

before the

butcher

buzzing

burn

sears

it all away

 

and

 

all the jeers of the corrupted do not matter now

as the final hammer comes unmercifully down

a ray of sun beam

catches hot the metal

 

if only there was a molten fury justice

 that could take their power all away

 

one more explicit verse

travels unscathed through

the cynic's ditch

and

then

vanishes

back into

granite

 

savor the last sight of lush wild grass

and bend down to touch those molten wildflowers

as you say goodbye to it all

but

then say

hello

to

heaven.