Face of Mendacity.

Yes it has, and admittedly;

Come to pass unpredictably,

The blades of grass are far from green,

No matter how fast I rearrange things.

In a palsied flash I see everything,

I cry and I laugh at what it all means,

Hope gets smashed to smithereens,

a high-speed crash into humanity.

A skinned carcass hung out and withering,

A trophy the hunter left disintegrating,

A nothing that no one can recall clearly,

Something hung in the sun to spin limply .

Yes it does, and quite totally;

blows my mind dumbfoundedly,

spends my time confoundedly,

by stinging my eyes perpetually.

But the tears I produce don’t mean anything,

just another excuse to curse the deities,

my tongue’s gotten loose and lashed back at me,

for speaking the truth in the face of mendacity.

What If…?

punisher‘What if…?’
And, as the words
shoot from my mind
through my lips…
there’s a sign,
shooting from
somewhere
far behind.
‘What if…?’
And, I cannot know
the aftertaste of
a poison on my lips…
a crash above,
low the high
circling
what was.
‘What if…?’
And, as the chance
sucks itself down the drain
out of my fingertips…
there’s a pang,
deep inside
everywhere
all over again.
‘What if…?’
And, as the present
becomes the past, here and gone
time all spent…
hard and long,
lungs howled
everything
emptied of my song.