Glowing-Jesus

Just a puppet on love length strings Watch him dance make him sing He'll play along with anything Dancing on love length strings Just pull the threads to raise his heart With a flicking wrist emotions dart Letting go he falls apart Tangling strings out from his heart See the way he'll flip and flop Tug the strings his arms are caught In the mess of love length knots A broken toy that flips and flops Now Poppet, that puppet, don't cry for him His paint is cracked and he's carved too thin Its time he's tossed into the bin A toy, just a toy, don't cry for him Just a puppet on love length strings Watch him dance make him sing He

Dizzy   Moving endlessly Stoop to room to hallways        Turning into hallways Locking doors     With unasked questions                         dying ambitions A fog crawling          Blanketing the same cemetery          Where I was born          Where I scratched my name        &#

Cross eyed mike he was riding a bike Downhill he made too quick a descent There lovely wake a week after his mistake Then the funeral next day was a somber event A life full of two is what his eyes knew Singles were doubles and twins came in fours He’d fall out of seats with socks on wrong feet Every room seemed dyslexic from ceilings to floors Rushing out of control he was met with two poles “I can fit through” in his mind what he’d said But as through he sped the sky blue turned to red As his nose was smashed to the back of his head The one street light it was twice in his sight Colliding with thirty miles-

Clouds float by on the first and last mission. The ocean was blue as the sky and hard to make out where it ended on the horizon. Twenty planes soared through the air coming from the west in the early evening. Fully fueled and flying east, the grave hung in the air. Isamu Kamishita’s hand pressed hard against his left breast pocket, creasing the photo inside as his fingers curled. Reflections of the passing clouds looked like ghosts in the eyes of Isamu. The day before, all pilots were called out from the rest of the force and men fell into rank. The Officer of the Day stood in front of the men and almost paced in small circles. Then the

In thought, he was never moved, never dazed, never caught in wonderment. Leaves transformed from budding sprouts to autumn gliders. Stubbled whiskers stood proud as trees before the abandonment from morning routine. Snow smelted with the rising sun and fell once more with the waning moon. Torn khaki pants discarded, born again at the moment of the replacement purchase. Nothing changed. Stone monuments were raised, and more frequently, bronze plaques were laid to float atop a sea of grass.      He lived oblivious to these things, knowing of its occurrence, but nothing more. Nothing more than the daily hum drum of life. Every night, in a leat

Mr. Jones woke up today Thinking none so different, just the same He changed his clothes and made his coffee His routine, the mornings early Socks and shoes and clover tie A family man I’m sure, just one more He changed his ways and shot his brains out Ends routine, the morning early

Coming down and falling How high can this last Moderation in short bursts Unknowing of the worst And if its yet to come And if its yet to come When good things presents its worst Is it yet to come. Could you count the ways Countin’ back to ten Finding your own happy place No need to mask your face Can some good come from worst Can some good come from worst When bad things presents its best Can good come from worst