One single voice cries in the night
Bless me Father for I have sinned
I’ve traded my soul
For one night of lust

Another answers
To whom do you pray
To save what is now mine

Amid the writhing creatures chants
The vile stench of the dead and dying
Permeates her nostrils
As gasps for air are heard
To what end have I come
All for the sake of wanting
Was it worth
This!

Incantations to the Dark One
Rise as I fall
Deeper and deeper

Religiosity of Religion

This is neither
A poem nor is it prose
But a combination
I suppose
Let’s see how it goes.

The oldest religion was
Lord’s Krishna’s
Where he had specified
That he was Time
The sun was God
So Time is God.

Also Lord Rama gave
A sample of equality and love
To ones family
Obeisance to the elderly
Justice in reality
Even to ones very own family

Drenched in heavy morning rain
Like an arctic soaking to the vein;
I just sat there stunned and wordless,
by the results of endless tests.

Only do I seek the scoffer's sympathy;
my litanies dot the bottom of this timpani.
No restaurant on high street offers...
Whoa! I found where my sanity rests:

A very comforting hand takes mine,
The other hand by her child as well.
I draw dry ice sculptures in my mind,
While a hawk’s screech rings overhead.

You stream through my veins

your words an elixir
soothing and razing
my blood in chorus

holding me spellbound;

breathless

in the sweetest pain
of undeniable necessity

would you withhold
my passionate cacophony

force a bitter resolve of
awkward discontent?

please, do not wander
too far away.

11.8.2010
© Tonya Greenlee