Some Good Men

Some Good Men

Ate, grief and self-destruction!

When a good man goes astray

And provokes the wanton villains

Just with words, a mix of races.

There is evil on this planet!

Back of bushes, under rocks,

In the night or plainly blatant

In the sunlight. Everywhere.

Do all the good men sit in churches

Praying for the death of fags?
Some good men write verse and study.

Some good men are lying dead.

God will touch the good men once,

While evil roams, and unrestrained,

Unchecked releases all its passions,

Goes into a cave and sleeps.

11-17-13

 

Human

Learning to be human. Not a clod

Of muddy fingers reaching for a god,

The opposite of what my parents made.

They are dead. Forever in the shade.

Caring. But not folly. Prodigal.

Bursting like a stallion from a stall.

Too eager and too happy, but too sad.

Arrested, beaten – both because I'm mad.

Alive because I am. But born to die.

Strong enough to live, but being shy

And frightened, taking nothing but a clock,

I make my burrow underneath a rock.

Living with great men in paradise,

Poets and composers, living twice,

Equally uncertain, splendid, brave,

Writing like a dead man from the grave.

11-17-13

 

A Didactic Poem

I hate didactic poems. This is one,

Ignorant and pompous and sententious.

Lost to his own conscience, can he love?
Everybody punishes himself,

Except the man so dead he neither feels

Guilt, remorse nor pity. Every man

Knows himself, and sees as in a glass

His nature by projection of his soul.

11-17-13