Underneath the covers of my bed
Lies the corpse of faith.
No longer does it struggle to break free
Of the bundles
Of a linen headstone
And a six-foot grave
Shaped by a dirt floor
Superimposed with coils
Between four wooden stakes
Planted firmly into the ground.
Resurrection from the confines
Of the closed casket
Feels unobtainable.
Even if there was a plausible way
To rise from the cotton underground,
I would not take advantage of the opportunity.
Malediction and horror
Toils and frolics
From outside and above.
Neither my interest nor my spirit is piqued.

Without my eyes,
I cannot witness the further destruction
Of our dying planet.
Without my ears,
I cannot listen to the screams
Of the untimely ripped members
Of our population.
Without my tongue,
I cannot taste that which has been financed
Through carnage and gore.
Without my hands,
I cannot feel compelled to shake hands
With those who smile
In synchronicity with glances
Containing genuine artifice.
Without my feet,
I can no longer walk on bureaucratic eggshells.
Without my lungs,
I can no longer struggle to breathe
While toxins from landfills and Land Rovers
Spread like syphilis.
Without my heart,
I can no longer be saddened
By the overall loss of respect and deference
Existing within our humanity.

To live is to be reminded of the stinking bowels
Built into tiny colonies
Developing into hills
Inhabited by rabid moles, rats, and ants
Developing into mountains
Developing into cliffs
Upon which the defeated
Drop to their death.
I prefer the comfort of my closed casket
So my last waking memory
Would not include the litter box
That the outside world
Has quickly become.

So long as reason is overshadowed by fate
So long as fear overshadows the truth
So long as shadows of spooks assassinated
For fighting fallacious forces of fear and fate
Are forced from public domain
In favor of the fornicating habits of the famous ones,
The feces is here to stay
And shall cover the top of my closed casket.

With a John Lennon CD
Blasting through where my ears used to be,
A Star of David superimposed on my sternum,
And a map of Pangaea covering my skull,
I can rest in peace.

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others