Men who made Gods

Gods created men

and left.

Now there are men,

men who made Gods.

Gods from Rocks,

Stone, sand, pebbles, wood.

From anything,

Anything they lay upon.

The bare wrinkled limbs

Carving divine eyes,

Celestial lips…

Giving Gods their halos,

and heavenly colors.

We buy our Gods.

And devout

to crafted Dolls.

… Built by same men

the same soiled, flawed

dirty hand.

The sweat smelling stares.

Chiseled between foil alcohol,

inches of day break suns,

wax filled dark and

blinding ovens.

Minute granting forever.

And what do we bow to?

The Gods, or

Men who made Gods.

Looking around

Flooding lights on tarred Earth

I watched, sipping silent tea.

Among the lights watching me,

drowned us, along the dust.

Our domesticated advances

the tamed guileless glances,

ceded in beads and words.

Touching the lip of gods..

And frozen memories.

Slaves to dancing minds

clear frost of charmed dreams.

Hands, palms, fingers to them.

Shoulders seeking shoulder.

Children on old shoes,

crippled legs, crippled steps.

Sleep strolling before clock hands.

Drunk words

Intoxicated…I waited

watching moonless sky.

dull and dry

How did we arrive here?

Perhaps, we are all God’s angel

Send down here with clipped wing

Send to live and drink

To find love and smile and laugh.

Or we were all from hell.

One with vanished tail.

The lonely manifest,

Forever alone and grim-faced

May be we were both...

I know not what and where.

I search for  beer.