Sitting on the heap of mortals,
an angel failed. The world
was not going to change. The kill
had inspired only a naked aggression.
Not blindfolded he took the bullet
in heart to become a holy martyr.
The pretention caused no ripples.
River flowed without blood.
A rotten tooth rolls out.
Another smile spreads. Many headed
cobra strikes again. The ooze tosses out
from the broken skin. I pray for the death.
The veil lifts. The bone of ruined
Conscience juts out. A terrible reminder of crusade seeps in.
What do we want from the gods of masses,
while the time does not want to look back?
The songs and art in this book are about our collective emergence after the pandemic and trauma of the last few years - comprised of 5 collections: World as Refuge, Where We Live, In Our Hands, Rhythms of Change and What We See & Sow.
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
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