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    Irises

    Mockingbird

    volume 3


    MISBEGOTTEN NIGHT

    Behind lead skies, the day is mourning.
    You are like the day, dressed in dirt,
    in grey, in cold dreary mists - you are bored
    exploring the dregs of your depression.

    I see your Narcissian flare. But, if in your caprice
    you choose (though others may not) to swagger
    where folly loiters in the street-
    What is that to me? Lovely stiletto, you hunger for a wound!

    Hate glistening eyes in electric daylight,
    predatory with your lust for human flesh....
    Drunk on power and greed,
    with you anything goes: morose and malicious;

    look at what you've become, black shadows, bloody dawn-
    each nerve of your taught body quivers with repressed excitement.
    Listen to your incantation, "Dear Devil, see how we adore you!"
    The proof lies in your actions!


    A MERCHANT

    A merchant of lies, he spoke the truth
    that mean spirited man with the mephistelean grin,
    and, with an invocation to the morning star
    he said, "Heaven? Don't worry about it,
    do whatever it takes, eat the fruit,
    for "yours" is the kingdom.

    Young men go everywhere and do anything,
    young women have golden honey
    and Delila shears,
    and old men direct it all, with vicarious pleasure,
    reveling in the greatest aphrodisiac of all- power.

    But what is wrong?
    How is it, in spite of our fanatical zeal,
    we feel somehow, someone's forgotten?
    Why do we feel the ancient terror, in front of virtue;

    when all alone, by accident
    we see a graveyard,
    or hands clutched as if in prayer,
    or two sticks lying prostrate in the form of a cross?


    ALREADY

    Already there is a law
    that requires a child sex offender
    to register with the local police,
    so that the neighbors
    can be notified and warned-
    a modern scarlet letter.

    The fact that this seems prudent
    is self-evident, but did you know:

    that there are those who deliberately
    pervert individuals into becoming
    child sexual molesters?

    One might question the wisdom of this.
    Or, wonder why anyone would
    create a situation
    where innocent children
    will be sexually abused.

    The reason is simple,
    they want to maintain,
    in neighborhoods across our great land,
    a state of high anxiety,
    for the sake of children of course,
    to better further their own
    radical right's special private agenda.

    Yes, they even have compiled lists,
    of people and politically expedient places:
    now I ask you,
    who is it that is sick!?!


    HOW SMALL

    How small are the features
    of the little children-
    who can see them and not smile?

    Little by little
    polished smooth
    as river pebbles
    or a looking glass.

    Blind people don't know
    that each one of you
    is unique
    a bright radiant flower.

    That everywhere you go
    and with each experience
    the varied blossoms
    become more fragrant.

    And even though
    there are those
    who would bind your feet
    and force your every step,

    Little children,
    know your life
    is your own.

    Little ones, how can people
    see you polished smooth,
    and still not weep
    at the pain of precious stones.


    NESTLED

    Nestled back between trees
    leans a small deformed house,
    its roof, misshapen with moss,
    looks like a grotesque growth.

    From shadows steeped in gloom
    the molting walls look leprous,
    and a weed choked yard
    completes the desolate picture.

    Yet, from one window,
    of the otherwise black shrouded house,
    faintly glows a light-
    radiant in the darkness of night!


    I WONDER

    I can't help but wonder
    where you were when,
    finally, your mind finished crumbling:
    brainwashed into a bigot's
    dirty puddle:
    and extension of someone else's will.

    Was it staring at a blank wall
    standing unnoticed,
    like so much of life,
    stark naked.
    Like so many other stares
    have fallen
    blind to its blind blankness.

    Perhaps it was on a road
    four lanes of virtual reality
    all empty already
    with so many departures-
    so many devoured souls.

    Maybe it was in an office
    where goodbye was said
    without you ever even noticing it,
    as you sat at your desk
    doing your job?

    A cloud, the sun glinting
    from the shiny metal skin of a car,
    the sadistic sneer of your enemy,
    and the auger of an owl in flight,
    a sign from fate?

    Continents of clouds drift across the sky
    reminding that all of us
    are loved,
    and of the beauty and fun of our dreams;
    while cruel and brutal people
    mentally torture and coerce
    others from their civil rights;
    until, your mind fled:
    a television
    only capable of repeating
    bigoted programming.

    Where were you
    when you ceased to be?


    WHOSE EYES

    Whose eyes spy at the computer enhanced images
    generated by the fibre optics put in place by
    well paid house breakers?
    Do you feel the stare on your naked bodies
    on wild October mornings as you dress?

    How many eyes will watch you shower this month,
    when you pick your prized possessions
    from their hiding places, smile with secret satisfaction
    and then laugh at your misery, when
    with your hands raised for mercy in supplication,
    as they receive their pieces of gold?

    Oh what heavy breathing is made
    by those peeping eyes when the night's
    turtle doves rustle their feathers cooing gently.
    How many of them are radical right wing whores?
    Outside unseen through twisted branches
    of old oaks is the setting of a waning moon.

    You self-appointed spies
    who have witnessed your manipulated murders
    and your sick seductions and your perversions:
    who wipes the mud from your desires?
    Who cleans the filth from your souls?


    AND

    and I walk over to the table.
    Turning on the electric light
    I sit down and begin to read.
    The walls disappear
    and the furniture melts away.
    I sit all alone suspended in air,
    then I too vanish.
    After tiring of reading
    I lay down my book,
    put on my sweatshirt
    and leaning over the couch
    pick up the keys.
    While leaving the room
    I stumble over the doorstep,
    and enter the darkened corridor...
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