Tim Miner's Musings

gods Are scary deities, I believe They smite with steel rods And for reprieve Prop you up in thorns Demanding for expiation and atonement They have never given man any peace Or some release. Sister, Your gods of wealth and money. Do you rattle them with the jingle of coins? Or glue notes to their faces for favours, for bribes, For fashion, for beauty? Mother, Habituation has its own gods. What sound, what scent, Aroma and odours arouse the ones you serve in your many addictions? Food? Sex? Alcohol? Children? Odds. Father, How do you conceive your deity? Mortal, immortal, visible o’ invisible? Molten or graven?   Wooden? Stone? Or spruced up with paints on canvas?   The morning fog or the mountain steam, indefinable. Written, typed on scripts their names ineffable Their power invincible, destructive but Highly indestructible. Or do you find the idea of one repulsive – understandable? Brother, What fancy pla...

Credit: Pixabay Screeches, blaring horns, rambling vehicular traffic Frightens, I have seen many a crushes, careless; Car and body mangled. Flesh minced, all and gory. Senseless. Seen homes, shops razed; reduced to ashes and cinder. A people weeded out, dispossessed of their lands by cabal developers; Faceless privates they are called, Shameless. Great churches with graying walls of truth Thick, round masonry and domed Reverberating with choirs of politicians Gyrating around altars and tithe barns, maleficent. And in public squares singing deceitful refrains and party lies, How low can we sink, fealty? Lo and behold, brother, The reprehensible Fire of greed that burns tons of smokeless anthracite coals; Pillages public coffers, bleeding our small economic strength away. Betrayal! The streets we walk, the grounds we till are Imbrued in blood. Bloodbaths of people thine hands slit Their throats. Innocents whose Massacres are sc...