i tossed my boarding pass into the gutter

i use to write romantic lyrical poems

meter and rhyme keeping time

songs like bus stop by the hollies

          inspired me

by august she was mine

 

then i learned the word, “why?”

why is there genocide

10 million congolese

3 million in pol pot’s regime

 

and i saw the history of man

as the history of human suffering

hardships house the warehouse

and we give meaning to the suffering

by each other’s hands

or natural catastrophes coming to our land

and let’s not forget the plagues

or a rampaging virus

by holding out for the sweet by and by

 

endure until the end and you will win

          the prize

 

and then i studied physics, neuroscience, philosophy

where thinkers thought, “if you only think like me:

you will be enlightened

you will understand

things are not out of hand

but going according to plan”

 

i don’t believe in much anymore

but i still find it easy to believe in the devil

satan and all his angels

 

it explains a lot

 

and i’m not really an atheist

i just don’t believe in “your” god

portrayed in words

 

photographs from telescopes

glories of endless space

and i just can’t keep pace

with the pettiness of your god

when i see the wonders beyond

and think of paul’s words

that god left evidence of himself

through his creation

 

not with rules about masturbation

or finding him in a fast

when my eyes i simply cast

to the stars and all that they are

and just can’t fathom

that it was all somehow an accident

 

but then i turn my eyes to earth

and see how we dance

the death the life the birth

and god seems nullified

even vilified

and not the magnificence i see

in the creator of the pleiades

 

i don’t know

these are things you don’t say

on valentine’s day

with roses in a bouquet

where her green eyes sparkle like the wine

that is bottled for the french restaurant

 

and famine is described

as the moments you are not holding her hand

 

but like i said

i use to write lyrical poetry

and songs like “precious and few” by climax

          inspired me

 

now i am soaked (once again) in the pouring rain

feeling no pain

nothing to explain

cigarettes, flask and overhangs

and the sound that the city makes after midnight

 

and i am laughing like the howling wind

saying, “there is nothing around the next bend”

 

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