Here is an indulgence into insensitivity, a blatant mouth of spit
At dead hearts and dishonest tears, a loaded weapon aimed
Strategically at the throats of posers and inhumane humans
Breathe slowly…now slower…exhale….
Cloaks of hidden shadows that should be turned inside out and
Turncoats revealed instead of revered like Revere, reversing
The truth and astounding the sanctity of the cherubim
Breathe slowly…take deep breaths…breathe faster…
Who are you?
No one.
What say you?
Nothing.
Can you change the distortion in the mirror?
Not at all.
Should you be breathing?
Certainly not.
Then why shame heaven and hell with wet faces and hollow moans
Over hallowed souls and cherished hearts, both day and night until
The stench and filth from your transgressions incinerate the headstones
Of Blackbeard and Jack the Ripper.
Breathe slowly…take it easy…the demons are watching…
What have you done today?
Parlayed.
Did you seek His face?
No time today.
Who can champion your contribution?
No one that I know of.
Are dusty faces smiling because of you?
Certainly not.
Then greet the same heat that the Beast seeks in a lake covered
In coal and receiving kerosene from the tributaries of rivers
Steeped with your lies as you view the casket and the trash
Generated from your constant manufacturing of lifeless darkness
As the last black suit comes off and the mothers are left alone in
Complete silence to clean residue from chipped dishes covered
With the remnants of oyster stuffing, cranberry sauce and
Pasteurized cheese drenched with macaroni
Can you calm that spirit?
Why should I.
Will you be there when the phone goes silent?
I have done my part.
Will the grief turn days into years?
Not in my lifetime.
Then wipe your tears away with barbwire and gnash your teeth
Against the rocks of Alcatraz and may loneliness follow your
Living corpse unto the death of your children for the lies you
Withhold and the disrespect you spread to the dead as fleas and
Viral insects are transported by the wings of migrant birds in
Autumn flight and cold teases flower bulbs.
And in death you shall find truth and your false pride will drench your soul into a place of desecration and universal pain. The tears and words are brought out wholeheartedly and displayed for the world as a nightmarish fresco ingrained in the roof of a massive Church, completed by the singing and prancing of hypocrites daily. Our dead should return and cleave our tongues to the roof our mouths and twist each bone until it breaks for our insolence and disrespect.
We cry and moan at the taking of a soul that we do not own and stop our lives to pay homage to their temporary struggle in this hemisphere of the galaxy. We vow never to forget them or what they stand for and the next day we walk past one of our brothers and sisters and do not even speak. We vow to remember their gift and we sit in our sorority or fraternity houses the next week and spew blemishes and degradation upon others not of our sacred colors or founders. We attempt to crawl into the casket with our loved ones and the very next day turn our cellular devices into a medium for alley gossip and character assassination. We feel so lost without our loved ones and the next day we alienate someone in our workplace because they are not in our cliché.
We should drown ourselves in the nearest body of water for the audacity we harbor. The person lost was kind and gentle or brave and outspoken and we tarnish their memory before they are even cool in the ground with our actions and treatment of others. We say we shall always remember the good in the lost soul and the next day we pour out the worst in our souls to the world.
We are liars and posers; destroyers of the highest form and a disgrace to the soul that was lost. How would that person feel to listen to how we treat our families? Would they be proud to watch us deceive our friends? Would they smile from heaven as they watch us take our blessings and give nothing to others? Are they looking in awe as we are blessed with a degree and a good job and give nothing back to those less fortunate? Would they claim us as their own as they see us waste our lives trying to please earthly people that don’t really care if we live or die?
The next time we look at some one with disgust that is different from us because of education, employment, social status, race, religion, organization affiliation, or any of the other transparent ways we try to elevate ourselves, I pray that the souls that we moan and cry over in death invade our sleep and give us only a moment’s peace. I hope they don the forms of ghosts and ghastly shadows and steal our breath in the hours surrounding midnight. I hope they scream until our blood runs cold and our blood pressure reaches its zenith. Then maybe we will understand that every time we cry tears and then revert back to our backstabbing, immoral lifestyles once the dirt has molded itself around the casket, that our grief was a waste and simply a buzzing nuisance to those lost to death.
How will we honor the memory of the dead?
At dead hearts and dishonest tears, a loaded weapon aimed
Strategically at the throats of posers and inhumane humans
Breathe slowly…now slower…exhale….
Cloaks of hidden shadows that should be turned inside out and
Turncoats revealed instead of revered like Revere, reversing
The truth and astounding the sanctity of the cherubim
Breathe slowly…take deep breaths…breathe faster…
Who are you?
No one.
What say you?
Nothing.
Can you change the distortion in the mirror?
Not at all.
Should you be breathing?
Certainly not.
Then why shame heaven and hell with wet faces and hollow moans
Over hallowed souls and cherished hearts, both day and night until
The stench and filth from your transgressions incinerate the headstones
Of Blackbeard and Jack the Ripper.
Breathe slowly…take it easy…the demons are watching…
What have you done today?
Parlayed.
Did you seek His face?
No time today.
Who can champion your contribution?
No one that I know of.
Are dusty faces smiling because of you?
Certainly not.
Then greet the same heat that the Beast seeks in a lake covered
In coal and receiving kerosene from the tributaries of rivers
Steeped with your lies as you view the casket and the trash
Generated from your constant manufacturing of lifeless darkness
As the last black suit comes off and the mothers are left alone in
Complete silence to clean residue from chipped dishes covered
With the remnants of oyster stuffing, cranberry sauce and
Pasteurized cheese drenched with macaroni
Can you calm that spirit?
Why should I.
Will you be there when the phone goes silent?
I have done my part.
Will the grief turn days into years?
Not in my lifetime.
Then wipe your tears away with barbwire and gnash your teeth
Against the rocks of Alcatraz and may loneliness follow your
Living corpse unto the death of your children for the lies you
Withhold and the disrespect you spread to the dead as fleas and
Viral insects are transported by the wings of migrant birds in
Autumn flight and cold teases flower bulbs.
And in death you shall find truth and your false pride will drench your soul into a place of desecration and universal pain. The tears and words are brought out wholeheartedly and displayed for the world as a nightmarish fresco ingrained in the roof of a massive Church, completed by the singing and prancing of hypocrites daily. Our dead should return and cleave our tongues to the roof our mouths and twist each bone until it breaks for our insolence and disrespect.
We cry and moan at the taking of a soul that we do not own and stop our lives to pay homage to their temporary struggle in this hemisphere of the galaxy. We vow never to forget them or what they stand for and the next day we walk past one of our brothers and sisters and do not even speak. We vow to remember their gift and we sit in our sorority or fraternity houses the next week and spew blemishes and degradation upon others not of our sacred colors or founders. We attempt to crawl into the casket with our loved ones and the very next day turn our cellular devices into a medium for alley gossip and character assassination. We feel so lost without our loved ones and the next day we alienate someone in our workplace because they are not in our cliché.
We should drown ourselves in the nearest body of water for the audacity we harbor. The person lost was kind and gentle or brave and outspoken and we tarnish their memory before they are even cool in the ground with our actions and treatment of others. We say we shall always remember the good in the lost soul and the next day we pour out the worst in our souls to the world.
We are liars and posers; destroyers of the highest form and a disgrace to the soul that was lost. How would that person feel to listen to how we treat our families? Would they be proud to watch us deceive our friends? Would they smile from heaven as they watch us take our blessings and give nothing to others? Are they looking in awe as we are blessed with a degree and a good job and give nothing back to those less fortunate? Would they claim us as their own as they see us waste our lives trying to please earthly people that don’t really care if we live or die?
The next time we look at some one with disgust that is different from us because of education, employment, social status, race, religion, organization affiliation, or any of the other transparent ways we try to elevate ourselves, I pray that the souls that we moan and cry over in death invade our sleep and give us only a moment’s peace. I hope they don the forms of ghosts and ghastly shadows and steal our breath in the hours surrounding midnight. I hope they scream until our blood runs cold and our blood pressure reaches its zenith. Then maybe we will understand that every time we cry tears and then revert back to our backstabbing, immoral lifestyles once the dirt has molded itself around the casket, that our grief was a waste and simply a buzzing nuisance to those lost to death.
How will we honor the memory of the dead?
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