Traveling like a spider in the wind,
Love spins iridescent thread
made of light
taking flight—
its web a network of souls.
Traveling like a spider in the wind,
Love spins iridescent thread
made of light
taking flight—
its web a network of souls.
Truth didn’t know
she would have to fight
to stay alive.
She thought being Truth
would be enough.
It’s not.
They assault her with shouts,
Smother her with lies,
They shove Truth in a box
with Schrödinger’s cat.
See that? they say.
Truth is whatever I declare it to be.
When power defines Truth,
Truth dies.
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A barefoot child kisses a world of opportunity,
Creating a dynasty where
Success waits beyond translucent dreams.
To thrive he must gain inhibitions
In a world where wars devour innocence
And rules of decorum silence
The screams of disorder in an orderly world:
Where killing is orchestrated through agreed-upon opposition,
Where peace seems irretrievable
And any kiss could come from Judas.
We are grown up!
Solid in our shoes of social dysfunction,
Cowardly and cultured,
We bow to arrogant ambition:
A corrupt dictator
In a world where
Love has been lost to a violent amnesia
And our hearts have lost their symmetry.
PROSE
It’s been snowing for two days, yet the pavement is clear. It’s the perfect snow: all beauty, no substance. Sometimes that’s what people think they want.
POESY
It’s been snowing
for two days–
yet the thoroughfares
remain clear.
The perfect snow,
people say:
Beauty,
but no substance.
As for me
I’d prefer
some depth.
It’s worth
the inconvenience.
