poem 412 of a poem a day for 2012

standing near the gates of hell on Mt. Masaya, ready to leap in

the smell of belching sulfur gas

blots out the Sun with poisonous clouds

raining its shadows along

crumbled stone paths

near the rim of this conical mount

there stands a cross erected

by the Spanish some 500 years ago

and if I do my math, than the great inquisition

was still on their minds when God

and country were reasons to subjugate

any and all that stood in the way of controlling fear

and a volcano half the world away was no different

if it could not be tamed then it must be

the work of the Devil

never minding

that inside the hearts and souls

of humankind lies the want of fire

of doing what we please

versus pleasing those we do

and whether it be in God’s name

or the Devil’s bane we do unto ourselves

for ourselves to either renew a faith

or to have imbued our will

with a supreme single mindedness

to be above the rest

and never waiting for a deign of dignity

to be dug up for the museums

humanity is meant for

where we used to have veins of ore

we now have nothing more than

our dopamine recedes turning the pages

into a thousand books waiting to be read

how many ant colonies are we in

how many are running for shelter

and hitching rides and storing food

a wonderful thing we sing

the jingle jangle mangles

that television rings sales with

buy this or die of envy

when your neighbor brings it home first

but what is it that we really need

a roof and some extra skin

some new clothes

and a pliable heart and soul

and willingness to go it alone

nothing matters much anymore

and everything breaks me

as my vitals become

smaller and smaller

by the second

each calcification

is certification by experience

yielding thicker skin with less need

for clothing but shelter is what I always run to

wanting the waxing of warm bosom whispers

that say everything will be alright Edward

even if the fire in the mountain

comes for the sacrifice of a child

still inside me seeking primordial balance   

every waking moment fills me with dissonance

in this world seemingly face painted

for humanity’s egocentricity for sale

at the street corners of an endless material desire

and a deepening thirst for harvestable energy

without remember the names and places

we have destroyed so willingly before

trying, ever trying to turn the lights on

EJR ©