Cherry Pie and the Whispering Falls

A Parable on the Porch

There once was an old man in a tattered grey coat,
Walking down the road, turning over every rock, looking for God.
I watched him for a while from my front porch.
He was stooped over and relied on a gnarled, worn staff for balance.

I called out to him,
"Hello Sir, what are you looking for?"

He looked up at me, a bit startled, and said,
"I'm looking for God, what in tarnation does it look like I'm doing!"

"Well, I'm pretty sure He's not under any of them rocks… I mean, Him being God and all, I guess He could be…"

"You little whippersnapper, one more crack like that and I'll come right up there and whip the smithereens outa you with this staff… and judging from that smirk on your face, I bet it wouldn't be the first time you had the tar beat outa you!"

"Well sir, then how 'bout you come up here and have a piece of DFCP?"

The old man's face lit up and he said,
"Well I guess God won’t mind waitin’ on me a bit… cherry pie sure does sound great…"

But then he looked up,
His weathered old face suddenly comprehending.

"Come right on up here, Sir. I have waited long enough, and you have searched hard enough for Me. Sit at My right-hand side… and we will share some cherry pie."

🍒 Author’s Reflection:
The porch was Heaven. The man who offered pie… was God.

EMPTY sTREETS

Whether the bullet

That kills you

Is fine print 

Or the face

Of death

Is wrapped

In a 

Full metal jacket;

Both are called

Carnage.

Ain't one any

Better

Than the other...

MAN HUNT IN MANHATTAN

 The Seduction of Evil

He dreamt of being a beautiful cellist

with star touched frosted skin and

Wind swept raven locks shrouding

dark almond eyes glistening with fire

Black hole  nebula shrouded passion

luring pristine innocence and total blamelessness

from the lost and the depraved and the wretched

Distilling each cry of agony and

Soul wrenching anguish

Into tiny crystals of gleaming luminescence

Bob Dylan - It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) - With Lyrics

 In Progress

Darkness prevailed 
To what degree
My soul assailed
This body flees

Shackles made from flimsy thread
Ethereal prison 
With no bars
Clutching utter dread

Coat Hanger Kristians
Abort Innocent children
with 2nd amendment

shrouded AR's...

I, poet whore,
wait patiently
on a dark horse,
watching shifting desert winds,
leaning over
I lift the tear soaked sands....
and drink the poison
deeply
regretting each drop
the whore stamps impatiently
morphing pantherlike...
scanning the ever
shrinking
horizon of locust death
bodies wrapped in
blood red linen,
knife like arc of
release...
she bleeds out
as the
panther rips
still living flesh
from humanities
carelessness....
beyond is eternity
sweetly I gather
you to my flesh
and whisper...
it is done