I’m reaching but never gripping,
It’s soul ripping how they’re preaching,
yet are never teaching.
I’ll never hide,
even when I die.
I’ll be immortalized
in some formaldehyde.
Where my soul, spirit and skin divide
I’ll be like a deity,
the higher me,
doing the Lord’s work,
hire me.
The humble apple-pie
can satisfy no appetite
here comes the hunger tide.
When wings carried Icarus
through cutting winds
we were pulled feathers
of wisdom’s birdy-body of ink
taking flight to Olympus planes
the son, seeks The Sun.
I’m grown now,
dealing with chronic stress,
and I believe less in a deity,
it seems like too far a stretch
The stench from a faithless,
hopeless, homeless folk.
— — — —
a poem by nublaccsoul from Chickens Laying Eggs on The Roof (2019)