Time is a wife-beater

the great world eater

who batters us

& scatters us

even when he pulls

the punches


Men make monsters

not nearly as frightening

as the matchstick-thin

man with a sickle

who kills us with waiting


Sometime he takes

those young enough

to think themselves immune

while the remainder linger

eroding between the tick

of remorseless clock hands


Death is coming

it is the death

of fat accusing fingers

and frog-faced men

who kill us with drudgery

and a lack of imagination


We rent these bodies

the shell of an intellect

that cannot conceive

a better way than rent

taxes, horseless carriages

that carry us anywhere

but where we wish to go


We are all Cain

We are all Abel

We kill the brother

and are killed by our brother

Inherit violence from

the father

Leach nourishment

from the mother


 
In a world of dust and deserts,

sunlight, snakes and sisters

insects and mountains of garbage

where rain falls on the just

and unjust, on babes and lechers

in homes that become prisons

and streets that become home...


are all hopes false?

or is hope the only cure?

the seed from which we can grow

a better end


I don't know if we ascend

into long halls of light

or descend into endless

tunnels of the night

Maybe its better that way

If all we know for certain

is all we have is today