bemused by moments

of silence

prayer was gasoline

to that monster he called a soul,

kneeling or supine

never enough,

massage and meditation

tried it all

still engorged on confusion

eyes watched through glasses,

was it all just

steak n eggs

or another sweet cigarette,

he wished to paint

what was placed inside,

no redemption

or sense of morality,

getting more each day

appetites of a man

forgetting where he

had walked before




  1. hypercryptical says:

    Prayer – gasoline for the soul. Like that.
    There is no redemption for the confused soul bar that of no longer listening to others so-called wisdom or we lose track of who we are.

    Anna :o]

  2. brian miller says:

    forgetting where he walked before…a poignant end…interesting too…the prayer and the monster of the soul…makes me wonder a bit at this man…the wanting to capture what is inside i can relate to that…

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