When the world is broken
And all that lies of it
Has been taken

When all your needs
And all that you've loved
No one heeds

'Cause all you earn
You'll find in them
When around you turn

Your family, your paradise
None other, never shall be
Your kingdom in heavenly disguise.

Ghost Relics**

Downtown,
where Main intersects Main
you'll see the last living tissue
of a breathing bazaar.
They weighed down her chest with bricks and girders.
It's a wonder she breathes at all.
-
Wander too far in any direction
and you're sure to see the husks
of once proud and bustling businesses.
Abandoned sanctums of mortar and majesty.
Scars of the Midwest etched as constants in our mind.
Dusty and silent since the cradle.
-
The theaters are bedeviled with dolled up haunts
who just wandered over from Greenwood to catch the matinee.
Management still leaves the lights on for kicks after hours
to throw off their sleep schedules while they wait for the feature to start.
Up all night, sleep all day; they read by neon and slumber under Sol.
Here I am, left lounging in The Devil's Chair. Crickets keep quavering.
-
Underneath the Franklin Street overpass sleeps a family bound by naught.
They watch in dawn's light as the few pedestrian that traverse Cerro Gordo
advert their eyes as some sort of silent symbol of respect for their situation.
It's as if the very stare of a privileged man could drain 'til depleted.
They never ask for anything, they just wade it out and listen to
the cars overhead, the train-clock's trumpet, and the heartbeats in between.
-
Leaks are patched, potholes filled, and yet
we're still loosing blood; becoming beguiled.
So many stray cats in the civilian savanna,
aimlessly seeking names and second chances.
"This premises is under police video surveillance" -
hanging like ornaments from streetlamp poles.
-
Guarding the gates
of a dwindling dominion,
as the armies of Union and Grand
wait in their camps
for the rust to take hold
of her iron veins.

Have you heard of the great Klapi?
Who's wings magnificent help him fly,
Who stalked the village and made that his feat,
With a loathing heart that contained his heat.

Every day he prowled the trees
And waited for the King's decrees
Then he'd take flight and soar overhead
And force the villagers to flee in dread.

Until one day, he felt quite off
And feared he was becoming soft.
His fear was confirmed when in the wild,
The beast, the monster, met a child.

"Come play with me" the child invited
And upon the dragon, the child alighted.
Somehow the beast felt happy, at last!
And took off flying very fast.

The child gripped to the dragon's mane.
The monster finally felt humane.
And every day they'd play 'til night,
And the Klapi was filled with sheer delight.

The beast gave up his violent ways
And lived for love throughout his days.
The child grew throughout the years
And never had any fears.

Then one day the child so tan,
Suddenly found he was a man!
And as all men were to do their best
To **** a beast, that was the quest.

The test of manhood, his calling hour.
The rise or fall of his life's tower.
Upon this task, his future rested.
His way of life would soon be tested.

The man approached his friend, the Klapi,
A look of grief deep in his eye.
The beast felt his friend's heavy heart
For he knew now, that they must part.

With many tears and moments shared
Between the two who deeply cared
More for the other than pleasing men,
Sharing the bond that goes far beyond our ken.

A man grew old and racked his mind
For a glimpse of the friend he could not find.
So he imagined a story, an adventure, a lie…
Of youth, of fun, and of the great Klapi.