Second chances come with strings attached

Lazarus had to

go into hiding after 

Jesus brought him back 

Late summer blues blows

a chill wind across waning 

days of warmth and light 

Straw men twist in the 

wind, smoldering to flame in

the fall (of the world) 

The crickets are still

chirping but there's a chill in

the air this morning 

In this pay-to-play 

land you gotta plunk down cash

for what they promise 

Seeds of night spring forth

evil tendrils but magic 

hides in the dawn light 

Liars' lairs once bathed 

in darkness now spotlighted 

still disguise the truth 

The high-wire hums 

as the aerialist's feet 

slip into the void 

 Relics once holy 

from a dead religion now

sit in a museum 

Self-sabotage is

a favorite pastime for those 

who strive for permanence 

From the top of the 

light pole the crow loudly cries 

"look at me, at me" 

Prognostications 

on the world's progress have been

grossly inflated 

The rended veil has 

been resown but the temple 

remains mere rubble 

The water line no 

longer where it used to be 

tells its own sad tale 

A mind is a fire 

to be stoked, said Plutarch, but

here it is cold ash 

Twirl until the world 

no longer has a hold on

you or your spirit 

The road, primrose lined

or less taken, still ends at

the same damn crossroads 

Sadness seeps in like

dank water in a basement

as flood waters rise 

Threadbare thinking caps

moulder in a corner no

longer in use here 

Diamonds are just stones

and gold just metal, but the 

heart is more than meat 

They refashioned your 

God in their own image, a 

rapacious old man 

The crow cackles as

it steals fire from the gods to

bestow on weak man

A smartphone's blaring 

drivel drowns out the chirping 

of the backyard birds