"g.o.d." by Eric Keizer
I cannot stop the thought of
running out the door.
Coming up, a which way sign,
All good truants must decide.
-Immortality, Pearl Jam.
Coming up, a which way sign,
All good truants must decide.
-Immortality, Pearl Jam.
And maybe God really does mean,
Good orderly direction,
But not for downward spirals, vortices and whirlpools,
And tornadoes in my head.
Storms of rage and deceit,
Shrinking from lights,
But in dismal finality-
Acceptance
Because it’s all futile
Puerile,
And hindsight is a bitch.
Sins aren’t forgiven,
Just catalogued and
Pressed into moist skin
Like brands on
Doe eyed innocents,
Tallied just before slaughter.
Good orderly direction,
But not for downward spirals, vortices and whirlpools,
And tornadoes in my head.
Storms of rage and deceit,
Shrinking from lights,
But in dismal finality-
Acceptance
Because it’s all futile
Puerile,
And hindsight is a bitch.
Sins aren’t forgiven,
Just catalogued and
Pressed into moist skin
Like brands on
Doe eyed innocents,
Tallied just before slaughter.
***

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