Three Poems. Not Two. Not Even Four, But Three.

Rotten Teeth

They give up their teeth

They give up their jobs

And their children

They defend their ego

“Take my teeth,” they say

He misses his 12 children

A new baby will grow up

With dad in an endless time out.

 

It’s the system, not their fault.

They got screwed. It’s unfair.

But this time it will be different.

This is the last time.

They gave away their rotten teeth.

The Eyes of God

When I see with love

Those are the eyes of God seeing through me

Living Bridge

I will melt into this poem

And emerge with the truth

A bridge from rock to God;

No longer shall I phase between the shadows

I shall build my home

of rock and spirit

And fill it with real things


And now a flower, in case you want to go there:

daisy2-e1467581849533

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