unserved at the service

I fidget on the sickly green pew

with a spiritual bit dulling my predatory teeth.

robotic words are mechanized birds

that perch atop the pornographic graffiti

walls of my awkwardly skewed perception,

then, fly away, buzzing and clicking and squeaking

like the rusty gate at a popular backyard barbeque.

 

nothing is permanent in this dystopian snow globe,

 

still, I am intrigued by the stillness of holy eyes.

even as wild hands are waving away demons

like pesky mosquitoes, and designer feet

are stomping out the flames of Hades,

the eyes are like untouched pools of cold

blue raspberry Kool Aid.

 

I thirst hard for peace,

but this piece is not mine.

 

I’m lost in the tangled vines

of my rainforest mind

that shoot up and strangle

anything foreign.

 

salvation can’t survive in this climate.

damnation can’t learn how to fly away.

 

 

Reviews

[Robin]

good thing I have a Cat or I might be staring at these words for awhile

Classical RG tipping the philosophical cap

[Kenneth The Poet]

One of your best, favorited.