Fallen genealogy
you have been systematically sucked
into the wayward bowel of my headstrong harem
an unborn child outside of Wedlock’s Stockade
wonders at the shape of an accuser’s fingernail
this torture is inhumane and lacks moral justice
“I have erred, no doubt. Debase the earth that I had trodden upon
because I have become contrite it will rise, heal and thrive again
but never in your wildest antagonism poison my posterity
with the haggard tongue of your Mercury’s tinsel”.
It seems like we were never here
I took my worthy elixir for granted
now its potion’s mouthpiece has grown stale
suddenly I am confined to a flooded pigeonhole
howling like a rabid infested mad prophet
all I see are skillets from your shadow’s vanity
rising and falling into another strangers abyss
after all, am not the champ I used to be
is it too late to show you the shape of my reformed integrity?
Quicksand
when people die, their strength is gone
they breathe their last, and then where are they?
they never know if their children grow up in honor
or sink to insignificance
as water evaporates from a lake
and a river disappears in drought
people are laid to rest and do not rise again
until the heavens are no more,
they will not wake up nor be roused from their slumber.
A song about a prostitute
Take a harp
and walk the streets
you forgotten harlot
make sweet melody
and sing your songs
so you will be
remembered again
she will be no different
than she was before
she will again be a prostitute
to all kingdoms around the earth…