prism

the music begins...
Light refraction
twisting a swirling dervish
while the suns soothing balm
is blisters to a heated mind.
booze dries the veins.
It cracks the arteries
As the brick -blood red-
weighs so heavy in my hand.
The window is light:
orange, yellow, blue, green.
It bounces back onto the street below
And from my cellular the sounds scream:
my father My king.

I see their lies!
They broadcast from their eyes,
they blister my sight,
turning Eden into a greater hell
That no mere man can contain.
And the brick weighs heavy:
It burns my soul
with the echos of the fallen,
the half forgotten,
the would be memories
of a triumphant Golgotha,
that with Conservative eulogy
hides truth and reality.

The brick is bloody
the heavy bloody brick
its filled with veins
of love and hate
and eggs and semen
and targeted with my cracked hand
at the golden light of hypocrisy!
I want them to know pain!
The Loss, sorrow their disdain!
but the music dies
in chaotic refrain
and the coward that is I
with hard heavy brick in hand
slowly walks away
to suffer yet another day,
and the prism glass
that is close at hand
simply breaks yet another man.

adh2013.