BODY OF EVIDENCE

Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean my fears aren’t real

Fears speak in foreign languages in dark places of my soul

They confide in me tell me where I’ve been and where I’ll go

Beyond my comprehension

Cognizance jells constancy with perceptions and prehension.

In the starry night the sun set forth with glee

Misconceived, under the impression
the sun was there to see

Seen only in one’s heart enjoying ministrations of beauty

Duped by impulsivity trying to capture eternity

Existence of time proceeds, a moment, a year, a decade,
years pass and we’re still here.

Pass like a train in the night.

Several generations away nothing’s left but the mist.

Everything in its time, beginning and end,
true love bereft by death. 

Games played to be won - there are no rules to make the world spin

Dancing in delight in the wan moonlight waiting for a generation of change

to make its way into the light

Beside me stand Jimi, Janis, Billie, Bob Marley, and John F. Kennedy before they were born

We can’t find the light to see the way out of a bad dream a nightmare in reality

Relativity exists the nightmare is as real as the window I gaze through at midnight

Looking for a light a sign that everything’s going to be alright

What is true is a lie

Searching for truth

Secrets overwhelm us

Secrets lie hidden beneath the earth still warm with the regrets of my piss

I have no more left inside that was a lie I scream as my entrails are pulled out

Steam engine losing control seamlessly riding the track

Meant for dancing then changing course before making that last turn

One turn after another wondering what choices were right

What else should we have done? Did we leave any any secret unturned?

Needing release was it left ignored to rot to die with our bodies

An epiphany of infinity a chronological weighing of events adds up to peanuts

Imminence of ends finds not one of us survive forever acceptance of the next rain

Contrives a storm a demise of quintessential gains in a new sunrise

Judgement Day

“You’re not a Jew,” she says, “not one of the few chosen ones, you’re a big nothing, a song a dance, a few laughs.”

A Johnny come lightly flowing to my rhythm, I reply, “And you’re a bitch, a vicious witch with a twist, you give me a stitch in my left side.” A brutal switch to her words, I continue, “You call yourself a Christian yet sit in judgment, call me a nothing. Step lightly," I caution. "Everyone is someone. You think because you sit in church and pray to Jesus it erases your sins, your forgeries your jealousies. Who died and made you God?”

Her mouth falls open. She is not accustomed to being answered back.

I continue, “Who gives you the right to decide what I am.”

I stop. I’m tired of this dance. What’s the purpose? I cannot change how she sees. She has cohorts of sorts who see the way she does. I live under the misconception I’m a Jew because I was born one, through and through. No one can take that away from me.

Impassioned by the fruits of my labor I know I’m a Jew. In a stew, it’s not important to define myself by her illusion. Misconceptions, putdowns and judgments morph into perceptions. I look at her again and see she’s never been my friend.

Get thee behind me I say to myself as much as her and continue on my way.

Mean People Suck!