You can go anywhere as someone else,

the masks and jesters play

invisible to sound and touch

the Lords and Creatures pray

 

To rent the future—sell the past,

the landlord still unnamed

invulnerable to what they sell

the real prize still unclaimed

 

To cry out once your voice reversed

lone echo at your back

the Landed Gentry comes and goes

—the crossroads blackest cat

 

(The New Room: April, 2022)

With no respect for time,

words revisit

Invading my consciousness,

attacking my fear

The moment conscripted

beyond all denial

 An ageless understanding

—of what’s to become

 

(Dreamsleep: April, 2022)

To be a true champion

—conquer yourself

 

(Dreamsleep: April, 2022)

Everybody’s bad day…

a badge without a star

the one who stood when others fled,

each day to raise the bar

 

The one they all could come to,

when freedom was in chains

the light that rampaged in the night

—to hunt what darkness claimed

 

(The New Room: April, 2022)

The sins of religion,

religion of sin

holding God hostage,

a prisoner within

 

An Almighty weapon,

inflicting great pain

heaven in bondage,

redemption in chains

 

The politics of religion,

its dogma a curse

with guilt as the wellspring,

all heretics thirst

 

Angels conscripted

the devil awaits,

for those who would question

—with hell as their fate

 

(Dreamsleep: April, 2022)

Writing,

 the only suture…

when truth starts to bleed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Trapped inside a wasteland,

dying inch by inch

 

Slave inside a rusted heart,

feelings chained then lynched

 

Later now than yesterday,

earlier than goodbye

 

Spooled like thread that can’t be sewn,

the needle asking why

 

But time contorts, reversing,

trumpets call you home

 

Eyes unspoken, voice untouched,

senses all atoned

 

Words on fire with freedom stirred,

reasons scorched and bare

 

A silence brewing louder,

new light burns through the air

 

Eleven Angels fly as one,

and twelfth, you join their throng

 

With wings now soaring inward

—time’s grip left dead and gone

 

(Airplane To Seattle: March 8, 2017)

 

 

 

Prayer without indemnity,

prejudice, or blame,

weaponizing Diety…

a dogma-based refrain

 

Through Him our Divinity

rejoining heart and mind,

to truly know Who reigns supreme

last sacrament defined

 

Religion like the training wheels

discarded when we we’re young,

to free the rider in the wind

—His spokes forever spun

 

(Easter Dreamsleep: April, 2022)

Gentle as a razor,

her words cutting deep

Robbing tomorrow

of yesterday’s sleep

Her voice rising sharply

to greet the new pain

A bleeding Madonna

—in strawberry rain

 

(Dreamsleep: April, 2022)

Is democracy sinking

into feral autocracy

The billionaire elites

with all the control

 

Politicians but puppets

where rich pull the strings

The rest of us lost

in deception and whim

 

(Dreamsleep: April, 2022)