ENVISIONING THE HANDS OF CHRIST

Folder: 
BARD'S SHARDS

 

envisioning the hands of Christ

          cupping together

offering water to the thirsty

          & the authority figures

chasing the compassionate savior

          from the courtyards

 

Can’t be having it

Can’t have behavior of such nature

         in this society

Fuck all those that falter

         from the path

 

         & forget salvation

            for the wretched

\

Those concepts are passé

To Hell with Kerouac and Kesey

              & the poetics

       of the gem like flame

as it will only lead to decay

 

We are standing at a crossroads—

      the fork in the road

             perplexes us

What do we do?

Which path do we take to get

           from here to there

 

     it all rushes on

        whizzing by our ears

 

Odd action inability

         the stars are hopeful

opportunity for peace occasionally

            shines our way

Knock, knock,      Who’s there?

       No one answers

 

    & the salvation

            goes by

none but the sacred words

           can be heard aloud

with no ears to listen

 

the battlegrounds of the soul

       are littered with the corpses

              of war casualties

Will we ever learn?

Ha!  Such a joke!

 

All the prayers & visions are in vain

The pope is powerless and the others

            don’t seem to hear

world leaders with malice and hearts

              of solid stone

 

          with no chance

                for redemption

 

resurrection of human heart

keep the spirit alive and moving

       and make it all better

No hearts beating aloud

           with the sorrow & tears

              of inspiration

 

Keeping the faith gets harder

               & harder

Staying conscious is a feat

        in this dreary world

            of the living dead

 

           no souls united

              in any shape

                 in any form

 

trying not to doze off

and let the demons out of the box

         the imps hustling

and the thorns of the rose

          slice at our flesh

 

torn apart dreams

          the prisoners

               are held

          without bail

           without bail

 

    & the lords of despair

        twisting  their arrogance

             into cheap cigars

    smoke and stink up the room

               with their rhetoric

                  and false righteousness

 

and in the name of what God?

     In the name of what government?

the tears of Jesus as he hangs

          on the cross  

drips blood onto desert sand

          & fertilizes that soil

 

The blood of the martyrs and poets

         is sprinkled into wine

as yet there is still hope

as yet faith is still alive

       as yet as yet as yet

 

        as yet it is

    still a possibility

         a thing like justice

 

and never giving it up

the angels urge us on—

        urge us on

in the crusade for freedom

in the crusade for justice

 

fleeing with nowhere to run

             is totally useless

like a cornered animal we find

           that we must fight

we find that we must attain it all

       by and for ourselves

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

written in the early 90's

allets's picture

This Poem

Deserves an answer poem ~S~


...a

 

georgeschaefer's picture

I'm waiting!!!!

I'm waiting!!!!