Monday, August 10, 2015

Retribution


 
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Once
I thought I saw God
while driving through Omaha, Nebraska
prisms of light shining,
but it was just a halo
in my rear view mirror,
the sun gleaming through droplets of rain
after a fierce thunderstorm.

I sought God many times
especially when I lay down to sleep
praying different ways
like a sycophant’s attempt
to gain access through pearly gates,
winking at Saint Peter
and handing over cash.
Instead of answers
I would wake up the next morning
with a slight hangover
from too much red wine,
blood that dripped
from my hands and feet.

Now, I seek God
in the aroma of jasmine
in a kind old woman’s face
or in the liquid eyes
of a cocker spaniel.
As I slipped into yellow moods
reflected off glassy ponds,
I found disappointment
from lies I was told
when I was a wee boy.

A nun once declared
I was going to Hell
because I would not participate
in Communion.
The bread, the body of Christ
was a tablet
that tasted like paste
if you chewed it.

And a minister remarked
that if I dare enter another church,
the cathedral would topple
and I would perish in the rubble.
It was this same man
whose hand got slapped
by Mother
when he fondled her behind.

So when I see brothers, sisters
felled mercilessly in their prime,
I simply ask why.
What lesson may I learn?
That life is fleeting?
To take advantage of the joyous journey?
I know these things.
Perhaps experiences are random
and luck plays a significant role
like losing that winning lottery ticket.
We manage to survive
trauma, technology terrorists,
even God herself
assuming she exists.

I jump on the carousel
spin round and round and round
afraid to jump off
for fear of landing in some inferno,
flames that reach the sky
burning me like a marshmallow
over a blaze that is too hot,
taking all of me
and my history with it
with questions that remain unaswered,
contemplation for survivors
in this mad, mad world.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

In Between Days




i.

I fall from the sky
without deliberation,
plunge like a hawk with wings clipped.

Assisted suicide has its benefits
when love dissolves
into everlasting slumber
afraid to wake up,
and face the day.

I feel` grey like billowy clouds
after a storm
clogging my senses
       so I cannot breathe.

ii.



I live in limbo
a place where nothing is tangible,
anxiety escaping steel ribs
like smoke from a cigarette -
toxic, manufactured to kill.

Your love is elusive
one minute pure, plentiful
giving opulent impressions
that this time,
this time you’ll stay.

Then like the wandering wind
you slip though cracks in the floorboard
stealing my heart
leaving a stone in its place.

I slip on ice.
smack my head on cold pavement.

All I see is white.

iii.

This in between place:
it preys on insecurity
descends into madness
leaving me in a state of vertigo.

I spin around the sun,
outrun the moon
your love illusory
as I swirl out of control
a meteor creating disaster.

Release me from your grip,
please...
Allow me to press on.
even as Hell descends onto me;
jackals nipping at my heels.