"The Moment You Die"
is a concept that is frozen in time -
Arbitrarily by its own focal design.
Anything passed it is chemicals roaming your mind,
and before it:
is existence shown and defined
as towing the line. The ending onus -
what if we could play camera man and suspend the moments?
First: Our flesh and known scents descend unknown steps -
stop functioning along organs until our breath is stolen.
Then:
our opus -
The start of our chemical death.
A breath for effect, colors collected and spread
lightest to darkest forming a blend of events
etched in our heads with leverage and depth
so deep Mariana's Trench turned to dreg.
The colors would bloom, then settle themselves
in sets of our friends, family and common places.
A cottage, lake and familiar forgotten faces.
A lost oasis - your first playgrounds AstroTurf and sky.
Hints of blacktop chalk to capture works of life.
A glimmer in the distance from a metallic, burning slide.
Surrounded by walls your old pastor churched up right.
Friends' boats with swell folks where the laughter burned inside.
Places you've visited that have mastered earth's designs -
The Coliseum, Kremlin, the Alps and church - enshrined
with all the nudity that elapsed your dirty mind.
All imagined in fragments and then combined with themselves -
For a glint of light - there's a whole life in your death.
Smile and accept this last graphic flash of nonsense
because, in turn, its your path to darkness.
Already half a carcass between sticks and a mattress
when that pastor starts wishing you passage.
All that's left is the chemical burn and sizzling flashes -
then figments to fragments until its crickets and blackness.
Isn't he Fascist?
Oppressing our scarce amount of living
and turning it into a reason to blow hot air about religion.
Our doomsday's rehearsed while he's ballooning the church -
Held down by Christenings for the newly re-birthed.
Our doomsday's rehearsed while he's ballooning the church -
Held down by Christenings for the newly re-birthed.