and then those days roll in like Summer storms. 
thunder so loud, 
yet welcome distraction from the silence of all alone.
and rain –
heavy as black in a midnight sky.
it seems,
in those moments of oppression, 
there is no hope.
what purpose faith in a faceless god?
surely there is no recompense earned merely from ritual of believe.
peace –
you proclaim.
comfort from the pain. 
but somehow – 
when –
remains unknown.
and as you kneel to offer prayer for salvation, 
voices whisper eulogies to care. 
in those days, 
when life becomes just too much to bear,
you realize how it feels –
becoming undone. 
what then? 
if compassion serves purpose – 
glue to mend the broken – 
and the cupboard bare, 
do the pieces of promise just get swept away? 
no matter our intention,
we end up unassigned –
unnecessary as the refuse of was,
thrown with deliberation,
into  the insignificance of – not…

becoming Jericho


oh my duplicitous Pygmalion!

while you were sleeping,

i was years away…

… trapped,

as you would say –

contained within my pre-assembled tomb of ambiguity.

but there is where i find –


my – me…


and while you walk in circles

around my truth,

expecting walls of nonchalance to crumble,

i smile –

free of your contagious animosity…


how simply –


your words,

so fervent in their request to be my savior –


your eyes do not invite –

and your clenched fists can never hold these trembling hands…

silence from another room


waiting for the silence from another room.

the absence of arbitration.

inviting the cold disconnect of solitude –

the comfort of alone.


too often we gather in congregation of suppose.

disallow our words the freedom of truth.

and finding ourselves surrounded by assembly of deceive,

we trade our identity for the vanity of same.

how can it be –

this miracle of life –

this singular celebration of creation –

can somehow become so much less than allowed?


instead of stepping up to challenge adversary of deception,

we hide behind our banners of indifference –

feigned allegiance to (counterfeit) conviction.

yet when we find ourselves alone –

exposed –

wearing only garments of insignificance –

we shout from platform of contempt –

challenge delegation of discrimination.


uncomfortable –

wearing shoes that do not fit,


walking reluctantly through minefields of indiscretion –

conveniently hidden just under the surface of your regret.


appropriately –
self-confined within an imagined cell of solitude.
odious –
repugnant –
intentionally deceptive –
surreptitiously culled from heinous acts of collusion…
and standing there –
silhouette in the rain –
feigning sincere conviction to implied compassion, yet
acutely opaque…
lower the flag please.
half- mast.
21 gun salute –
rehearsed tribute to the passing of credibility.
and from these eyes,
no tears.

insinuation of refrain



agenda – 



it seems we simply exist – 

to exist. 


black and white priorities muted to obligations of grey. 

we enter auditoriums of suppose, 

yet exit before encores of know.


ignorant to ownership of capability – 

obtusely self-absorbed!


with characters flawed from addictions to same,

we fall in line – 

paupers by convenience –

reciting litany’s to camouflage our disdain. 

and yet, 

when offered avenues of alteration, 

deny with apoplectic revulsion

accommodation to insinuation of refrain.


obedient, we have become,

to complacency.

prisoners to indifference –

unaware we hold keys

to the locks of our self-imposed commonality…

the implications of a conceptualized god…


some would say – all knowing one.


perhaps – omnipotent.


at some point, spoken of –

in close companionship with dear,

and oh my,

and almighty.

or maybe referred to – Argus.


whatever your concept of creation –

regardless your attraction to any particular dogmas –

your conviction dictates my perception.


i suppose i could be persuaded to believe –


my belief would not be tied to hypothesis –

co-dependent with proof.


and so,

the opportunity –

as presented at this juncture –

lies in your ability to convince –

remove doubt from the sanctuary –

of –

my believe…

the color of our conviction


in houses we did not build,

we occupy rooms –

temporary tenure.


with purpose supposed,

we hang portraits of authority –

masters of what we can never truly own.


rigid –

we become –

to change.

influence to alter even the color of our conviction – disallowed.


God forbid a door left ajar!

access denied –

unless pre-approved –

requisition ratified.


and if –

somehow –

allowed entry –

disregard any inclination to linger.


there is no option of reciprocated accommodation.

your presence merely filler

to reconcile empty from an equation of existing – all alone…


for what purpose,

if i may ask,

suggestions of compassion?


would it not be more genuine,

to pass the superficial statements of solidarity through a filter of truth?

remove the assumed perception of empathy –

from the diatribes they conceal?


i for one would much rather face a wolf –

understand the opposition –

than mingle with imagined sheep and become victim to defamation by deceit…



how so?

surely you realize,

even the perfection of your make-up can’t hide the truth

when standing alone –

outside –

(animal) in the rain.