mores et pauperem

the angels
pure
serene
and doing good
to those who who can give back nothing

the demons
clouded
torturing
and devouring
those too weak to resist

so both blessed and cursed
are the poor
the meek
the powerless

as they
and only they

can truly discern
the demons
from
the angels

from bitter
experience

Dilemma

He asked me, “Man, what am I supposed to do?”
I told him that I could not answer that.
“You’ve seen her, dude, you’ve know this woman, too;
I don’t think I can stop from where we’re at.”

I had no answers, none. No dim advice
‘Bout who it was he loved and owed his weal;
He said at home, his heart had turned to ice,
And there, no longer, did he really feel.

He left. My counsel he’d not really sought.
I knew the girl, and hoped he would be wise,
And win the sordid battle that he fought
As I had not, when I looked in those eyes

= = = =

(Not a true story. – Owen)

Two Ways

She preached to him environment
The perils of the planet;
Of rich and poor, of black and white
And priv’lege took for granted

Then left to hit some trendy bar
And bed some married Mister:
While he went home to love and care
For his autistic sister

The Enemy

I seek, at times, to understand
The enemy I face;
I look for ways to comprehend
How I’d feel, in his place

I search out wisdom to provide
For him what he might lack:
And thus engrossed, I never see
His last
Killing
Attack

Threads of Realization – 3

Everything

Everything

Is riven by evil

People

Are filled with it to their remotest corners

And answers —

We seek them, as to why

There is so much that is bad in the world

But the real thing

Inexplicable

Is why there is anything good

At all