seventh sunday
***
*******
when i decided to
live realistically,
and my faith was discarded forever:
a steeple upon
a tottering temple,
and a bridge
of unstable support.
i denied in silence,
my confession kept quiet
for my mind was never at ease.
their judgments were shallow:
yet i drown in their tide,
i will not give up life for
Him.
i became more assure,
no doubt in my
mind, there was no one up
in the sky. hypocritically ignorant,
but aren’t we all?
your soul’s just as
tarnished as mine.
*******
***
protecting my tower
nine eleven was not kind to you.
yet still you stand,
the tallest,
hope for US.
defenseless,
you wait motionless
for an aircraft to
pierce your skull
of glass.
and I watch over you
from my backyard
on the offense.
scanning the sky
a subtle grey,
scanning…
powerless, I feel,
I cannot protect you
I cannot
protect
what is greater than me.
death,
a mechanical bird,
wings now knives.
it approaches the guardian of my grim city.
an exit wound of smoke,
your heart now debris,
and my understanding of love
collapses along with you
Butters
O goldfish,
how sadly you went.
Not but a day did you stay
in my home. O why did
you leap from your bowl
Into the sink? Was the water
too cold? Was my love
too much for you to bear?
O mother,
hater of all things swimmy,
why did you place his bowl
in the sink?
Was your heart so cold,
even colder than the water
dear Butters fled from forever?
O sink,
you metallic,
heartless wretch.
So greedily did you
gobble up my goldfish.
I would take a hammer
to your heart,
were it not that I
drank from you daily.
O me,
poor, defenseless me.
How I suffered when
I found your bowl
empty,
the wate, still
rippling from your
dive of death
down the drain
to your demise.
O, how I grieved.
O, how I purchased
Butters the Second.
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