a bad mood
We are not children of concrete and steel
despite what Living Color said in the early
90’s…while they were on the cusp of edgy rock…
We are beings of falseness, victims of participating
in some pathetic crapshoot—buying exotic clothes and
drinking Dom Perignon while the loners who sit among
the pigeons and get shit on…. mumble the real truth to
We are all going to die…soon, very soon.
Much too soon.
And while the corpse is lying in the dirt,
Being eaten by worms and slugs…those walking
Above ground keep praying that there’s something else
After we pass into that dimension of nothingness.
Keep praying preacher
Keep praying rabbi
Keep praying priest
Keep praying shaman
Your words are useless to this man of realization
Wandering alone with a wounded bird in his pocket…
We are a band of isolated idiots with a penchant to overrate
So much we see…
What we see is nothing; beauty is just a word to describe fear.
And that fear carries us to the church, the mosque, the place of worship…
I’ll stay here--feed the birds, and talk to myself.