Thursday, January 20, 2011

Dislocated From The Pulpit

the words of regret were carved in your tombstone
and i read them aloud to the gathering of people
who had come to witness a miracle or at least a magic trick
when the rain began to pour from the blue sky
i knew you were watching
tinkering
toying
laughing
at us
at me

i would clinch the meaning of life in my hands for a moment that day
daring the gods to strike me down for screaming the words
giving comfort and knowledge to the poor simple peasants in my company
for it is all an illusion isn't it?
this game show existence
dabbling
interfering
fooling
with me
with us

1 comment:

  1. Written in 2004.
    This has been through more revisions than the fourth Indiana Jones movie.
    Still don't know.
    Religion- a theme I pummel from time to time.

    ReplyDelete

Anna, She Drives the Big Van While I Smile and Wave at the Creatures Along the Highway

  these broken boxes of dreams scattered about the lime green waters sleeping in icy caverns beneath the surface of moons i long ago forgot ...