Brotherhood is a word
I speak with the gods
who smoke cigars drink rum
and curse like
army drill sergeants
we the drunken diseased and poor
who crawl to the altar with cancer in our legs
the ones the police hate for our pain
I will take cakes and coins to the god's altar
he who gave me power to see
what cannot be seen
and feel what I never before felt
and find joy I did not know
Then I can dance and talk in tongues
and speak with the dead
and dream with those who dream no more
and feel no fear for the things night can bring
(c) copyright 2011 Charles David Miller. All right reserved.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Ritual
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dang charles...strong images in this..crawling to the altar with cancer in our legs..love the endig..the dreaming with those who dream no more and the going fearless into the night.
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