The Gun promised paradise

in the pale moonlight

parables stuttered in the wind

no wise men to answer the riddles

or to guide us past the burning street lamps


A baby and mother both cry

as she presses child

to a dry tit of desperation

that once carried the milk of paradise

while somewhere a drunkard

with an empty bottle in hand

sings a song of dead and forgotten promises

of Paradise


Gold adorns the churches

alongside a tortured promise of paradise

while children poisoned and half drowned

on stagnant baptism water

grow hungry and sullen

Angry words

reflect off

broken souls


Cruel men tie

tin cans

to the tails of dogs…



©, 2016

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