May 24, 2015

it's the n-nimby-ism, damn it all...

Ralph Eugene Meatyard 'Untitled'
(ca. 1960–1962), gelatin silver print
The Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

n-nimby-ism, damn it all

not Nephilim in my backyard 
has become a universal 
whisper mantra 
anti-crime lights 
dinner time 
to morning, sing 
this tune too...

our cities 
traversed with rails 
and poled wires 
eat the forest 
with stone streets 
and wooden houses
in the dark...

crypts have become 
the human zoos 
lifetimes now wombs
where every entry has 
a sentry doorman 
who says halt, 
who goes there 
what is there 
besides you 
and the meadow's lark 
starling row marrow-ing 
the short nights 
of summer leaning in

have any of you 
yet, reason to live 
past a need for eyes 
surrendering memory 
entirely to scent 
what has your soul lent 
to a bettering cause or purpose 
I am sure there are many here 
who, like I and perhaps you 
choose sight's imaginary tales 
and tactile perceptions 
before something that smells right...

perhaps heaven 
was never meant 
to be such a far away place 
after all, though I'd still 
tithe, tie and tide myself 
nearest the exits 
I could...

with my dolls 
and my masks
just in case
this belief 
in a higher power 
fails me again...


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