THE END

how do people manage to set aside time
to write consciously and poetically
amidst dishes and daily work duties

dying empire manipulations
relational demands
and driving

plus all the surprises that arise
each day to add to the stress

of taking care of aging bodies
and dwindling bank accounts

of time

____

I would travel
if there was a place
I felt inspired to go

a place free
of bosses and bullies
controlling our lives

the captains and helicopters

but wars on terror
are really no more
than wars of terror

where collateral damage
and civilian casualties

are really
the unjust and vicious end
to hosts of lives
very similar to yours and mine

as a new president
tries to give what's left of the world
to his bosses

the men behind the curtain
of every war and supposed terrorist attack

your unfriendly banking cartel

________________

I can barely find passion enough
to even bother writing anymore

the world demands my emotional capitulation

be nice belong don't rock the boat don't curse don't think too much don't drink too much and above all never get angry

and I go along with the program most of the time
shave off this edge and that

until I wake up so well rounded
directionless and small

I am nothing more than a pingpong ball
in some privileged sadist's hand

waiting to get whacked

_______________

it was pleasant to dream
of winning at the money making game

see how far the dream of a big refrigerator
could go

one with an icemaker in front
and a freezer large enough to outlast armageddon

I've demonstrated my moral ambivalence
the greed to match my sloth
lust and gluttony

and whatever other deadly sin happens along the path

equal opportunity sinner

_________________


there is no winning in this novel
no happy ending

we are cities in destruction
future generations have been mortgaged
and the banks are calling in their loans

in the moment when the serpents claim ultimate victory
pulling all the world into their usurious pit
and we dull witted dinosaurs are removed from our throne

when the tree of life begins to unravel
perhaps an ape survives
maybe just fox and rabbit
or raven and rodent

perhaps just a thick shelled turtle
an old fish and some insects

I will send my consciousness there
hidden in a mushroom spore
reminding them again

to dream