The winds of truth
carrying honest lies.
Cataracts on young eyes,
old beliefs.
Promises freely given
with a high price.
Purses filled
and bellies emptied.
Think for yourself,
the eternal command.
The sheep flock,
the dogs bark,
the hens peck,
and the pigs get fatter.

Ever fatter.

And the fields,
through which we ran,
become graveyards.

play with my feelings

he waits until his feet
hit his dirt floor before
he thanks the Great One
for allowing the sun
to rise again    

he walks through
well worn weeds to make
water, and again gives thanks
he could pass the water, and saw
no serpent in the grass  

this is a blessed day
for he has yams and fruit
left in his hut; he finds little
mold on these gifts from the
ground, the trees    

he looks to the sky
for omens--it is mauve
with morning, but the clouds
have no foreboding shapes
again, he gives thanks  

before and after his repast,
there are the prayers, then the silence
in which he has learned he will hear the voice
which commands all, its words in cadence
with the slow beating in his chest

Evil

Shake hands with the devil
know this is your path
Take advantage of people
Make confusing so others to take wrath
Force all around you to do bidding
Without catching you an invisible photograph
Soulless and yet pleasing but only to attract
A masquerade of a charlatan except to a wizard with a staff
Notices on lamp posts of missing are signs to find them and some have been tracked
Knowing only of the selfish pleasure never the victim an incidental cross pass.

There's a story in every time zone

I smell like regret, intertwined with sweat.
The Lord's Prayer is resting on my tongue, under my breath.
There's heavy sighing, eyes closed, I's dotted with hearts, X's and O's.

... yet no one knows.