I: Mercy


In the wilds of the industrial jungles and wastelands screams the holy, divine light of mercy;

Angels and demigods of steel and iron, twisted into creation by apocalypse and mercy

And among the lifelessness, the domination, the rule of the economists dwelling in the dark,

Listens the suicidal warriors fighting against everything spiritual they claim to fight for;

The political men politick through contrived systems and the incessant qualms of the playground

During recess in the middle of the night while the swings teeter backward and forward,

While splashing in the aquatic wood-chips of yesteryear, harmonizing melodies and actions and

Pushing against the rules and regulations, the madness that stops at freedom, they claim.

The jungle vibrates in the life that it breeds and cherishes, forcing merciless rules

While shouting about shouting, yelling, screaming, bullying, and splashing;

Have fun, they command; when demanded, enjoyment imprisons itself and

Searches for the key inside the closing walls that mercy, mercy, mercy birthed.

They tighten around our waist, leather against leather and prostitutes crazed in the streets,

A reflection of sunlight blasting forth for instinct, for impulse, for love, for mercy

Playgrounds full of potential politicians thriving abreast the sickening touch

Of a donkey or an elephant’s warm and cold regulations that alter with the seasons, and

The walls bash at the bugs they push against and grow, and grow, and mercy, and

Elevate beyond the leap of the innocent man dying among the already-dead criminals;

He shakes his fists in fury and angst toward the illusion he envisioned and claimed it had

Approached his sadistic, psychoanalytic facade of a self locked inside the mirror,

Shook him senseless beyond his lawless power and reach that could not extend above the walls,

And joined him to the unmolested masses crawling to their crumbling monuments for redemption.


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