If you look up in the sky
there's nothing there
but lint
and sometimes a bird.
... and you realize
that this firmament
under your feet
is heaven's toilet
which makes you
a piece of shit.
©04.07.2017 ebn
Friday, April 7, 2017
Missile strike
we stood there shivering
needing to get some air
while the sky hung low
and the dogs barked
in the distance
through the smoky clouds
I thought I found the moon
but it was only the light
at the end of the tunnel
©04.07.2017 ebn
needing to get some air
while the sky hung low
and the dogs barked
in the distance
through the smoky clouds
I thought I found the moon
but it was only the light
at the end of the tunnel
©04.07.2017 ebn
The way of the West
there's no shame
in digging up the dead
and hanging them before cameras
to terrorize minds
and usher sympathy
uglier
when its your own handiwork
artfully presented
to give credit to
your philanthropies
©04.07.2017
in digging up the dead
and hanging them before cameras
to terrorize minds
and usher sympathy
uglier
when its your own handiwork
artfully presented
to give credit to
your philanthropies
©04.07.2017
George
boots on the ground ain't high enough
they sink too deep and sludge flows in
blood and bone from the blender
of some great white, green eyed "friend"
aid delivered in hazmat suits
AIDS delivered in vaccine shoots
foundations from foreign nations
staging missions as they loot
food shipments dropped like bombs
on the heads of the shell shocked poor
medicine and water wasted
like cracked eggs on the bare earth floor
cute little corpses
with their eyes still asking why
painted pretty with munitions
caked in death’s most brilliant dye
sidewalk shops and spas
reduced to nothing more than rubble
the color of life sucked out
by monsters marching on the double
the news is a commercial
a trailer for the latest hit
straight from the front, direct to you
remixed and edited
there are no monster killers
so the monsters have turned up
spinning, flipping scripts
while terrorizing – your time’s up!
where is the knight whose had enough?
where is the pauper king?
where is David's little ass,
his arm, his rock, his sling?
giants fall, I know they do
I've heard the stories told
but giants don't fall by themselves
they fall to the young and the bold
but the young don’t listen to elders
and the elders have nothing to say
like ostriches, with asses out
who pretend that they’re not getting raped
is this the end of the line?
are we too far gone to come back?
have we all become bitches for riches we chase
while never worth more than a snack?
we say the world has gone to hell
and that someone’s got to fix this
but this didn’t happen overnight
we snoozed, we lost, we deserve this
if by chance a kid named George happens to read this
I’m gonna say this one last thing and be done
George, you were born a dragon slayer
please, take out the dragons, my son.
©04.07.2017 ebn
they sink too deep and sludge flows in
blood and bone from the blender
of some great white, green eyed "friend"
aid delivered in hazmat suits
AIDS delivered in vaccine shoots
foundations from foreign nations
staging missions as they loot
food shipments dropped like bombs
on the heads of the shell shocked poor
medicine and water wasted
like cracked eggs on the bare earth floor
cute little corpses
with their eyes still asking why
painted pretty with munitions
caked in death’s most brilliant dye
sidewalk shops and spas
reduced to nothing more than rubble
the color of life sucked out
by monsters marching on the double
the news is a commercial
a trailer for the latest hit
straight from the front, direct to you
remixed and edited
there are no monster killers
so the monsters have turned up
spinning, flipping scripts
while terrorizing – your time’s up!
where is the knight whose had enough?
where is the pauper king?
where is David's little ass,
his arm, his rock, his sling?
giants fall, I know they do
I've heard the stories told
but giants don't fall by themselves
they fall to the young and the bold
but the young don’t listen to elders
and the elders have nothing to say
like ostriches, with asses out
who pretend that they’re not getting raped
is this the end of the line?
are we too far gone to come back?
have we all become bitches for riches we chase
while never worth more than a snack?
we say the world has gone to hell
and that someone’s got to fix this
but this didn’t happen overnight
we snoozed, we lost, we deserve this
if by chance a kid named George happens to read this
I’m gonna say this one last thing and be done
George, you were born a dragon slayer
please, take out the dragons, my son.
©04.07.2017 ebn
Wednesday, April 5, 2017
The concert
People there
Following strings they don’t understand
Swaying to beats they cannot hear
Like they have to pee
Standing in place for so long
But I was never on stage for you
I was just the wind
Carrying a familiar scent
For the homesick
The out of place
The remembered
Only a few felt the raindrops
©04.05.2017 ebn
Following strings they don’t understand
Swaying to beats they cannot hear
Like they have to pee
Standing in place for so long
But I was never on stage for you
I was just the wind
Carrying a familiar scent
For the homesick
The out of place
The remembered
Only a few felt the raindrops
©04.05.2017 ebn
Of my name
The loudness
A big tree falling before me
Crashing through backyards and living rooms
Stirring up summer swarms of love
We chased and ran from
Like the pups that we were
Learning our tales
The light
Fireflies in our eyes
Like cigarettes at night
Dancing on the front porch
From explosions of laughter
Shouting
And fights
Every star in the sky
Gathered round the table
Holding hands in prayer
Singing out their souls
Into the bowls of our
Young heads
How we rolled in those waves
Those thunderous waves of emotion
Stirred up and released
From the bowels of ancient ships
And buried aquifers
Memory passed through pain
Blindness cured by blood
Each note recomposed to connect us to
Hidden truths
Our ears drank the drunken tears of
The baby gods we looked up to
And I can still remember the loudness
Of my name
In the mouth of my family
©04.05.2017 ebn
A big tree falling before me
Crashing through backyards and living rooms
Stirring up summer swarms of love
We chased and ran from
Like the pups that we were
Learning our tales
The light
Fireflies in our eyes
Like cigarettes at night
Dancing on the front porch
From explosions of laughter
Shouting
And fights
Every star in the sky
Gathered round the table
Holding hands in prayer
Singing out their souls
Into the bowls of our
Young heads
How we rolled in those waves
Those thunderous waves of emotion
Stirred up and released
From the bowels of ancient ships
And buried aquifers
Memory passed through pain
Blindness cured by blood
Each note recomposed to connect us to
Hidden truths
Our ears drank the drunken tears of
The baby gods we looked up to
And I can still remember the loudness
Of my name
In the mouth of my family
©04.05.2017 ebn
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Heaven's rent
They say that heaven is ten zillion lights years away;
that God, who dwells within, done broke His lease today.
The water never got hot or cold. The utilities weren’t dependable.
No one came by for the trash, and the noise was just unbearable.
No one knows where God has gone, though some say up in the sky;
somewhere deep within the sun. Don’t look or you’ll burn your eyes.
Forbidden to look upon His face, you refuse to look into the mirror;
the plank in your eye is a bridge to nowhere, overreaching what can get no nearer.
So you’ve been left to your own devices, the evidence of your impotence;
mind divided, hooked on vices, too far gone to seek deliverance.
God’s tired of waiting for made up minds begging for second chances,
always trying to pray their way out of natural consequences.
Leaving fools to play their games in vacant lots and special classes;
put off by the stench that reeks from sagging pants and unwashed asses.
Who wants to see their children starve by feasting on empty edibles
just because they have no taste for truths that are healthy and available?
Having been neglected, rejected, and disrespected as a good tenant,
God has left the building, shorting you way more than His rent.
©04.01.17 ebn
that God, who dwells within, done broke His lease today.
The water never got hot or cold. The utilities weren’t dependable.
No one came by for the trash, and the noise was just unbearable.
No one knows where God has gone, though some say up in the sky;
somewhere deep within the sun. Don’t look or you’ll burn your eyes.
Forbidden to look upon His face, you refuse to look into the mirror;
the plank in your eye is a bridge to nowhere, overreaching what can get no nearer.
So you’ve been left to your own devices, the evidence of your impotence;
mind divided, hooked on vices, too far gone to seek deliverance.
God’s tired of waiting for made up minds begging for second chances,
always trying to pray their way out of natural consequences.
Leaving fools to play their games in vacant lots and special classes;
put off by the stench that reeks from sagging pants and unwashed asses.
Who wants to see their children starve by feasting on empty edibles
just because they have no taste for truths that are healthy and available?
Having been neglected, rejected, and disrespected as a good tenant,
God has left the building, shorting you way more than His rent.
©04.01.17 ebn
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