poetry is for

the readers, not
yet read or bred
on the diet of verse
i can pull out of my
sleeves or the bottom
of my mad hatter hat,
a simple cap that
doesn't exist as
a normal piece
of armor - a
helmet if
you will,
with me
quickly
trying
to study
the complete
armor to keep me
alive in these, the
end days - and faith
will set us free and will
move mountains and mount saint
helens has nothing on the
power of a lamb utilizing
the power of Him who
created us, not of
ourselves. our
selves see,
but now
only murkily
as if through a
lense, a mirror muddied
with irresponsible smudges
of reality to try to throw
us off. you don't have a
hula hoop? well, you're
out of luck. they're
the hottest thing
to have right now
what the have's
are laughing at
the have not's
and the world
is afloat on
a backwards
track of
what it
is sup
-posed
to be.

do you yet see infinity in
the mirror? falling prey to
the game even though you see
it is pitiful - how much more
worse than those who don't have
eyes to see or ears to hear what
is happening on the planet at the
moment.

the stand. in-
deed. it is
coming even
now and has
been since
the beg-
inning
of all
things
and our
short
(or long)
romp in
the garden
with nothing
to worry about
except obeying
and praising and
now we have palm
pilots and children
in africa still starve.
i can watch more and more
teevee and yet the children
and the widows hunger and cry
themselves to sleep night after
night as we fight for our own ver-
sion of freedom. the real zion
is yet to be realized again
upon the earth it is in-
side of us, not of us
but given to us if
we but ask and
humble our-
selves as
children
and not
the rich
man.