Sweet

This patch could be any other:
A spot of grass below
a blue and clouded canvas
and I, an ancient king
eating apples from a nearby tree,
reveling in my royalty,
or the simple glory of the day.
In fact, I could be most anyone,
from any time or station
and the fruit would be as sweet.

Mephisto & Yahweh Bounce a Spliff

Mephisto:

Hit this, Bitch… I mean, Your Honor.
Watch your monkeys dance,
when I pull their strings and dangly bits
and offer them a chance.

At what? Who cares?
It hardly matters.
Offer one a crown.
Some will fight and some will follow,
but all are going down.

Yahweh:

Bitch?, your best?
You never were creative,
but I guess that I’m to blame.
‘Mephisto’, though’s a disappointment,
You’ve shortened up your name.

A ganja conch, how quaint. Oh blimey,
have you got a light?
Of course you do,
what was I thinking?
Damn, dis stuff is tight.

Mephisto:

Man, Oh Man, what are you saying?
Gimme back that shit.
I had them in your little garden—
She for apples, he for tits.

I’ve LoL’d throughout the ages,
delighted in their wars.
Helen launched a thousand ships,
but I invented whores.

Yahweh:

Dude, pass that back.
I’ll make confession—
One you need to hear.
Those monkeys are your own obsession.
I’ve moved on and
I don’t care.

Love Redux

And you would have me share—
Are you crazy?
What don’t you get about insane?

My will is a warm straight jacket
Lending steel and spine—
Invertebrate,
a jellyfish of eyes
and quick emotions.
I jumble my words
and choke on anger.
I can stare down the devil
or wither at a song.

Duty, I understand,
and obligation—
I am my word
and my word can be anything.
My creditors can be angels or whores.

Once upon a time I wrote you a hero,
A virtuous knight, a champion.
We enjoyed the fiction,
content to play fools.

Only, I wasn’t acting.
I have always been a fool.
Let me lie to you a lifetime.
Don’t ask me to share,
Just pretend that you still need me.
I am lost without this role.

Love

She asked me what I meant and I fell silent,
and falling dumb, I fell upon my knees.
To mean is to maintain in spite of violence,
a steady and illusionary peace.

I battered her with doubt, I begged for something,
anything by which to be defined.
I am, it is, they are – Dear God, have mercy:
A stranger in a world to which I’m blind.

“Love”, she said, distressed, as if an answer.
I lost myself a moment in her eyes.
I rose both to her need and to embrace her
and spoke a gift of comfort and of lies.

Indigo Bunting

I’m dumb to leaves and prairie grass;
a million colors can’t be named.
Wind conspires with shifting light
to humble language, exult sight.

I watched a bunting taking flight
from black to blue turn as I looked.
A list of shades between the hues
would burst the bindings of a book.

A spectrum spanned, a moment took,
a world encompassed in a blink
and all I ever hoped to know
vanished when I stopped to think.

Check

I’m not up to this game,
I never have been.
What does it mean to win?
The loser gets the same reward and quicker.
But I will not fold,
too many others have bet on my hand.