November 2, 2012

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 ©

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