the discomfort of belief

when even the view
from the hill
looks the same
and your shadow
surpasses
the travails of sleep
you slip behind the camera eye
put your head
behind hands
once used to conceal
your eyes
in games with children
and
pray
like you did as a child
when you still believed
in something
believed
and the promise of days
greater
than those behind
taken for granted
never again
all hands on deck
brothers
all hands on deck
to behold
the way the dawn
imposes its will
upon the night
after night
by day
proud
defiant
like god
like the boy you were
and remain
if you believe it so
in hiding
ever doubting
yet ever wanting
to impose your will
on days
like god
and nothing less

Redirection

I'm abandoning this site so as to avoid the necessity of using the patriot whorehouse link to spirit rituals. I'll leave the now abandoned patriot whorehouse/old spirit rituals pieces and photos here for a while before folding it down all together. Thus, please find any new pieces, photos, etc at my new blog site, appropriately named Spirit Rituals, found at www.spiritrituals.blogspot.com Thanks.

cleanliness is next to godliness

okay
okay
i've changed my mind
since i want to touch you
all over
i will wash these hands
after all
the hands that handled
uncooked meats
and poultry
i know it's sick
and you mind the flies
that follow me so
but my aim is true
i really love you
okay
shit
i'll even go to church
cut my nails
wash the dishes
this ratty old hair
what's left of it
i know
pick up after myself
and stop saying
christ
i'm only a man
what did you expect
if only you'll sleep with me
under the stars
in the back of the chevy
camp fire
camp smoke more like it
indian signals without language
fishing rods on the ready
music playing
the a.m. radio
the way it used to be
the way we used to be
before the beer
or the food
slowed me down
and i got too washed up
to summon the resolve
summon the reason
to wash up
these hands
this life
and so now what the hell do you mean
you're no longer in the mood
when it's only you
can save me

fire walk with me 

hang on dead 

change the locks

kicks off his corduroy
trousers
telephone squeezed
between ear and a shoulder
cigarette succumbs to ashes
and then nothing
pees on her flowers
the ones he just bought
at the corner store
with toilet paper
cigarettes
and a pen to write
goodbye
on the roll of toilet paper
you piece of shit
goodbye
one shit to the other
he walks out the door
in boxer shorts
sandals
cigarettes
blue socks left behind
in the heap
corduroy trousers
telephone off the hook
all of the shit he reckoned
she'd throw away
anyway
hitches a ride
in a ford pick-up
hardly any clothes
by a guy
with hardly any teeth
but christ
could this guy ever whistle dixie
the sun set
in the rear view mirror
just as he had come to see
his life set
every time his reflection
blankly stared back at him
as if to ask
what the fuck are you looking at
nothing behind
little more ahead
in all likelihood
it's another day in paradise
it's par for the course
for the aging boy
his mama always swore
was destined for greatness

perspectives 

the only good sex offender is a dead sex offender

selling t shirts
outside the lions' den
two for one
iron on superheroes
glitter
100 percent cotton
he was singled out
by the leper
messiah
singled out
by a bony finger
the illiterate multitude
frothy mouths
did then converge
it was josiah ben
bent down
left hand basted
in dried blood
of lions' prey
josiah ben
who gathered
then fired
the first stone
unsteady left hand
bloodied
to draw blood in spades
the blood of a t shirt salesman
the others did then follow
falling over themselves
to wield their morals
their moral code
unwritten but verbalized
many a drunken day
and night
by josiah ben
and it sounded good to them
and it sounded right by them
the morals of josiah ben
unsteady
hands bloodied
trampling over the patchy flesh facade
of the leper
messiah
on the way to extricate
the glittery t shirt salesman
from the living
from the illiterate multitude
from the believers
in josiah ben
unsteady
hands bloodied
moral and just