firestarters in Gaza

the news makes me feel like I am participating in life
monitoring the world for some reason I cannot begin to fathom

I watch the rise and fall of this and that regime
idea, haircut, verbs du jour...

A story of three angels has been banging out in my head
I lay trying to sleep on a night with none trying to take the story further
to dream out how the story will end

so far I have three angels who have come to earth to awaken the Christ
they find him as they expect to, mourning his fate and still
in the thankful oblivion of his true mission

they have plaid this scene out on other planets and times
they do not envy the Christ
He alone goes out on point
becomes a human to try to save them
from his father's judgement

At first the Christ refuses to believe the angels
Laughs at the idea

Then slowly he comes to know that he is the end
the harbinger of the big fire

The angels in the story are weary warriors
they have been warring the forces of satan
retaking the souls snatched into hell by the master deciever

They have won and now they have come for the son of God
they both fear and love him

He is a creature who thinks he is a man
oblivious of the powers he could call upon
how easily he could toss the very planet into the sun


The Christ will have endless conversation with the Angels
he mistakes His fears of His Father with Hate
became an atheistic writer of violent comedy

They finally launch their mission
take over the media and plunge the world word into chaos
The Christ is mistaken again for a man who would be King
Is tempted by the world he could own again by the forces of Darkness

The tale slowly percolates in my mind
a secret place that I go when the conversation doesn't interest me
the obsession of hours laying in bed wishing sleep would come

I feel the guilt of the bomb
the guilt of fire
the guilt of bullets

the guilt of life and death

i watch cnn while I write my poem/story idea

seeing gaza getting hit by hundreds of missiles
the jews responding to the fanatics and their bombs
by massing troops on the boarder

by the end of the night the war could enflame the smoldering middle east

the us and Israel are bound together in the middle eastern mind
they despise the americans for staying out of the conflict
for not coming to their aide

When does the rain come that puts out all these flames?
the flood of holy water
that washes us clean of this blood


i hide myself in a poem on the middle east
in a story of angels
the far back dark reaches of my unconscious
where the unknown stand and speak from opaque black

I make up the angels to have some comic relief for this Christ character
comic relief... there is no room .... no room...

One war plays out on my tv, in the middle east, south america, africa... anywhere people are picking up guns and joining a side to wage war
is the same war
the same break down of reason
the same Darwinian struggle to be free
















You are welcome to spread my poems by ANY MEANS NECESSARY.
http://theelvesattic.blogspot.com

http://thereligiouspsychokillershitlist.blogspot.com

HTTP://generalfactorx.blogspot.com

http://secretposse.com

There is some overlap... but they are all different.