Simple Simon

Staple gun to my head

Pin it closed the gaps of dread

Leaving out the slips of blood

Creeping forward pools of red


Wash my hands are never clean

My past my future the gun has seen

Violence is endings and never begin

A new life unrelated to your stained sins


Born of broken bonds 

Spilled the cord on the floor

Teethmarks adorn the separation

Of new and old; mine and yours


Forecasting shadows and scattered sun

The flood grows civilization

But progress is all undone


A kernel, a  truth

A whole line, uncouth

Reveals the multiplier factor

But hides the unborn

We are but pieces

Strewn about in space

Gluing the puzzle

Before the reciprocating

Masticating massive breathtaking

Never in one place


Simple Simon on the road to Damascus

Cutting his hair with an adze and matches

Scraping the skin of sirocco blasts

A transformation into Halicarnassus


Mausoleum, museum of the dead

Open a door before your breath has left

Water our lips before they crack

A parting of seas too far to come back


Tender ebbs and floaters

Greeters and goatherders

We chew upon the gristle

Measured by lands and missiles


The wall fell, the past has come down

We reopen ourselves to the shorn

The Shaven, the innocent, the haven

Reborn of growth retarded

Strength concentrated in buds

Metered by our telomerase

Aged to skin and bone


Matted hair oil and dirt

The Rastafarians and the Earth

We light up the skies

And look to the seas

Waves crashing all about us

Hydrocarbons, water and peace

Which one do you leave


This poem is about: 
Our world


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