Kids in Florida
The Trials of Nuremberg
never slowed down the anguish
that man tried to pass on within a stepping stone
of dissociated guilt…
And if Buddha is your “thing”
Well then bow down to the chanting
harmony of want…
Do we ever climb into the space that
saves seventeen kids? Theorize what
agony is within our own little mind…
Prancing with false bravado…a
Twitter rant or faceboob comment about
how actors can play the role of deviant
political farce…
Then the sickening larva will
lick their glistening lips…looking
over the bodies of souls in camps or
step around the blood of a freshman band member…
Crying “the horror, the horror…” That was good
enough for Marlon Brando…but it could never
extinguish the rationalization of another, another
Pathetic look-away.
Dan Provost
Devout
At length
we are born to wonder…
My God is better
than yours—but,
in the end…the same place
will be dark…
Rancid…
Smelling of sweat.
Deep –we will think
for years, but settle
nothing…in failure
mode of whatever
sin may be in vogue
today…
Dan Provost
Jesus in the Garden
Gethsemane…
You begged.
You failed.
Others have pleaded
on a smaller stage,
Maybe not with big
time consequences…
But tasted the poison too…
And they wanted to get out just
as much as you did…
When their sentence was announced
and the blood refused
to stop flowing…
All of you died…
Some with fanfare…
Others in fields in
the middle of nowhere…
Jesus…your morality is commendable
An unselfish spirt …
Who to some, was killed
for our sins…I just
know of others
who took the quiet
way out…No prayers
or books were written
about them…Some
pained faces, staring
into a faceless mirror…
Day after day after
day…
Dan Provost
