These our hands, five fingers Two palms, twin bringers The creation of God from earth Earth? So they are mere dirt? Earth perish at the hands of earth This I ponder sitting at my hearth Man’s hand ten brothers of terror His brain, porridge of horror I look at his eyes, binoculars of greed That overlooks what they need His mind, the war map that never fades His soul, the citizen of hades The forests that was green Never so again are they seen The hands of man hath stamped his fingers And still there it lingers As forests become desserts That conquers the stoutest hearts The rivers where the fishes swam In whose banks roam the footless clam The corral and the reefs, the oysters The plankton and the river monsters Do they not now smell and prick our noses Like the stench of sewage hoses Ten fingers pick a willing knife And plunges into his wife Ten fingers that gave a golden ring Now makes the woman cringe Ten fingers hold down the little girl A
Showing posts from January, 2011
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These yearnings of my flesh Ever so strong ever so fresh With which I battle everyday While I work, while I pray, May they not bind my soul To hell’s darkened hole. These thoughts of my heart So strong like pungent fart Tearing at my heart’s seams With spiky darkened whims May they not take away my place At the head of the race. These cravings that I nurse Beyond the borders of my purse Whispers of noisy greed The fruits of evil seed May they not break my hold Of the one who leads the fold. These sights my eyes see Raging like the seething sea Baits ever fresh, ever sweet Littering the church and the street May they not make me wait Outside the city of Golden gate. Lord help me to stand firm For lo, I fall amongst them. Your ears are not deaf to hear, Hear the voice of my fear. Your hands are not short to save So bring me out from this grave.