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watching a live move with deep remorse i muse: is god being used a garland of fresh flowers broken off shrubs aghast our needs are few we want more than our due ultimately lose washed and bathed chiseled stones with a metallic gaze our esteemed lord on a pedestal we glue then grab on unmoved sacrificing all they have they dream of mores uncapped offer him riches one would think he is needy too then who gives you harvest comfort if you may a grain of wealth is thus proclaimed if he were that poor you'd be the god i am sure shower me with more drought cakes the earth cracks open deep sores he has a rich home with gold and silver designed whom do we malign sacred is every corner unlit superficial light travels not within every day pray telling him what he did state he reads your pulse faint shutting its eyes tight the pigeon thinks the cat lost its sight why pray at all doesn't he understand thought well hidden flaws painted and brushed wrinkles cake to emboss dust strange words i utter them with deep thirst nectar speaks verse bitter tastes the burning spirit neat intoxication unfolds a word sweet offer if we must thinking he would thus bless us poor are we in trust the lotus blooms as wisdom unfurls in slush its roots quench thirst compassion i say disturbs not the other's fray with patience it waits the papiha in feverish verse implores clouds to drench him first we travel somewhere calculate our own fare then we cry: unfair the echo reaches far only to resound and come back hushed blame others we must circumstances are unjust who caused them as such termites grow wings circle light and die singed destiny plays games nothing else to do but maim deadly is its fame transient is every moment of night and day the world revolves in transience seasons that fade why not look within like inside out outside in in transparency skinned a caterpillar cocooned emerges a butterfly beautifully groomed stunningly gorgeous if you discard the untrue who knows who’s who ~ |
what we make
of it