This Good Ol' Bitter Earth

I looked out over the grassy shore
and what did I see…
Trashed filled garbage cans
heaped with
diseased mannequins
hand-in-hand
upon polluted convoluted waste lands
tilted with blood spilled wine bottles
careening in streams
and seams
across rivers of time
and slime
liked mind
with the sublime
lined up
to monkey-see monkey do cash machines
erupting like volcanic ash
spewing lava lit steam
here
there
wherever the road sowed
on the by and by
where we live
and die.
Why?
Because we settled
resettled
upon this bitter earth
of my barren birth
where
I came to be
to see
angels and demons
bloodletting
bed-wetting
go-gettin’
for whose getting by
the light of the slivery moon
mastering the disguise
of the ties that bind
stringed under
pretense nonsense
of whence
came the name
of who’s to blame
for the pain game
on this bitter pill
land fill
of no shame
riding the dark horse
with the rest
lying on a bed of nails
beneath the wails
of barking dogs
and wild hogs
eating away at the hell bent
tent
covering over head
above the wedded bed
of gun runners
and infiltrators
traitors
raiders
and pretend placators
hidden spies
telling lies
while
while
while
the baby cries
for his spilt milk
amassed in weapons
of warfarers
who dare not care
to give a damn
about
the sham
in blockades and facades
like shades in spades
running like puss
fluids
of contaminated
body sores
pealing pores
surrounded by black birds
of prey
who await the day
when the temple of doom
soon entomb
the room
where fighting
shadows boxes
the ghosts
from times past
when last the fallen
swelled in hell’s smells
of rotting flesh
drinking in the same ol’
piss hole
day
after day
being the way
out of
no way
come what may
or not
rot
on the dotted spot
lined with
eyes blinded
drunk minded
ass behind-ed
confined
to throes of lust for must
in the dust bowl
hole
filled with
lie soap
and false hope
tied to a dope’a dope rope
trying to keep step
with the
chance to dance
on the jig
saw
horsey
into the sunset
where the dawn wept
for her mother
making her way
in a
wilderness
of bombs
dropping
like dead butterflies
beneath the wings
of fireflies
and brimstone jail cells
and hells below
the surface
of this good ol’ bitter earth core
of my barren birth door
opened
wide
inside
this rage
on the page
to engage the mind
to find a way
to say
to the day
in this encrusted plaster of clay
to go beyond the dead head
of sickness and shame
misery and pain
rising from the hard rain
beating against the grain

Is it in vain?
to speak against the atrocities of created fate
instigated
tolerated
unabated hate
the weight of hills and boundless boulders
over troubled waters
laden to covered wagons
where darkness disguises
the dragon's shadowy talons
clawing at the light
to the taster's delight
unaware of the blinding
binding
constrictions
choking us all to death
for a little slice
of slithery wealth.

Oh suffer me!!
to be free!
to take flight
to fly
across the sea
wishing I was never
to be
to say to the day

so long
I’m gone.

Peace
out