The Poetry Of.
Al Ferber....................................................
Black Hearted
The calm
of my soul
curdles
like a pool
of spoiled milk
clumps into
rancid lumps
in the heat
of a heart
blackened
by dis-
enchantment
grotesque
disappointment
in the nature
of the species
its ocean of love
shrinks
to the size
of a black eyed pea
festers
like an infected wound
becomes ill
tempered
as a rabid dog
in search
of raw flesh
to rip apart
swallow
and spit out
in disgust
in black
hearted rage
pushes against
great pillars
of former hope
waiting
for starless
skies to fall
Holy Cow
I spoke to the Indian
Hindu priests
of reincarnation
the Tibetan Buddist
monks of compassion
the Aztec High
priest
muckity mucks
of human sacrifice
the American Indian
medicine men
of the great
all pervading spirit
it was the American
Indian great spirit
that resides
in everything
and everyone
that I liked best
mostly cause
they didn't
write down a thousand
rules in some
bullshit text
Buildings
a creation of modern man
the man outside
the cave
twig huts
cabins
castles
steel
concrete
brick
mortar
brownstone
cinderblock
wood
press board
card board
plastic
public housing
projects
sky scrapers
factories
towers
gin mills
whore houses
adult book stores
all nude dancer
emporiums
hotels
supermarkets
high schools
city halls
capital buildings
monuments
over shadow
everything
blot out
land
where trees
no longer grow
elongate shadows
across lifescapes
distort
vision
play tricks
on the eye
and mind
create havoc
clinical depression
over crowding
promote
rodent behavior
where humans
kill each other
eat their young
havens
for rodent
empires
the rodents
that will
inevitably
inherit the earth
Book Of The Dead
I opened it
and page
after billions
of pages
were blank
as far
as I could see
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