Joel
Pethuel’s son heard God.
He screamed at the drunken elders
-Who should be wise –
To consider their generations,
To lament their fate
To wake up from their stupor.
Joel slept on a towel
on the beach
during his vacation
and thought he heard
some kids screaming about
something in the water.
He turned over to
get some sun on his back.
He heard of the virgin wife now widow,
Pethuel’s son,
but virgin still.
He walked the orchards
And wondered why the pastor
Had not seen the spoiled produce.
Joel sipped from his
water bottle and took a bite
out of a perfectly ripe apple.
He scanned from behind
shades the sea
rolling and turning
with the patience of a
gardener.
Harvest is never.
The land is lost.
Darkness.
He said to embrace hunger and consider
paths chosen.
Pethuel’s son heard of mighty hosts
That destroy
Leaving desolation in their wake.
They cannot be stopped.
He felt the land,
And it was 1920 Tokyo.
He saw the sky,
And it was a velvet curtain.
He screamed:
Turn and see!
Turn and save!
Consider and repent!
Joel glared at the noisy kids
and slurped while he crunched
his apple. He looked at
the body asleep next to him
and prided himself
on his choices.
Slave traders roam,
selling boys for whores,
and girls for wine.
He knew his place in life
near the top, and
had no problem with it.
Joel closed his eyes,
and decided he
would get more sun.
Power does not change.
Sunday, 28 March 2010
Friday, 5 March 2010
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