I wrote this...

...right after 9/11. I came across it last night as I was going through some of my writings. As you can tell I was very bitter and confused by the whole thing. Since then I have taken some spiritual leaps and bounds and knowing what I now know I have chosen to forgive and celebrate the lives of those lost.

The Residue of Greed and Existence

...and the world was burning
there were people everywhere
and songs were being sung...

The streets a crumbling testament
to this new world of
bloody, cracked, callused limbs.
Mothers grieving over the loss
of their brothers and sisters,
and children.
We feast on the delusions
of our sorrow,
faces symbolic of the destruction
which has found us,
catapulted us into this new world,
this tragedy,
this mutilation.
This must be what hell is like.
Lost and hungry faces.
Most so afraid
they can only wallow
in their withered senses,
walking as if in a dream
yet never waking.

...where are my people
where are my brothers and sisters
where are my children
where are my people...

This is farther than our imaginations
could have ever carried us.
Some unseen, faceless bastard
has pulverized us,
and all of the airplanes and
duplicated buildings
could have never foretold this nightmare.
Our humanity
lost to an invisible dictator
who has taken from us
the best of what we were
and all we had hoped to become.
So, this is what it's like
to have all the world's power
at your fingertips.
So, this is what it's like
to survive.
Melted flesh
on skeletal faces,
mutilated spirits,
shredded hearts where love had once been
now there's nothin' but greed kickin' in,
shelter and nourishment our obsession.
Nuclear crumbs and toxic water.
Neon blood floods our veins,
like dominoes we crumble.
This orb now a tainted confection.
Spreading across dough
like ants feasting on fried chicken
sometimes sweet,
sometimes rancid,
but mostly too rich for
our own good.
This tapestry
of whipped creamy existence
started to melt.
Civilization a delusion.
Life as we know it
isn't worth the fives, or tens,
or dollar bills
in your pockets.
Your Swiss bank account
is cheese.
All of your wealth
and power
and status
bleeding through the holes
which once represented all of your
significance in life.
Trivial pursuits
are swept aside.
There is no escape.
In every crack and crevice
cascades this nuclear dust,
and all of the money in the world
can't fix it.
We inhale deeply,
bathing in the filth of selfishness
we start to feel remorse.
As coarse as
rock salt
it pulses through us,
and as we witness
all of this nightmare,
this chaos,
and death
grief overcomes us.
We start to feel sorry.
We want to take it all back
and make the black trees
green again.
We want to peel the charcoal
from our burnt skin
to reveal
the baby pink flesh
of newness.
We long to find just one
blood red rose
as a sign that, yes,
...we are still breathing.
We want to watch our children run,
if only with
the bloody stumps
of their lives,
pounding on the pavement
like drums.
Making music in our hearts.
Sending hope to our souls.
And when we find the courage
to close our eyes
we find ourselves pondering the course
of our lives.

...everything is deep now
except the water...

In these last hours
we confront our dreams.
We feel sorrow.
We feel resentment,
We are scared.
We are cold,
but we do not ask for answers
for these questions we now ponder
have all been resolved,
and we keep telling ourselves
that the reply to the fate
of us all is that
only God knows why.
When will we take responsibility
for the dust that our bones have become,
and the marshmellowy skin of our grins.
Responsibility
for the delinquency of our children,
and the larceny of our money,
the grand theft of our lives,
and the rape of humanity.
The longer we ponder
and take,
the longer we steal,
the longer we lie
and break,
the longer we live
in this painfully forsaken
granted for taken world
without taking responsibility
for our own actions
the sooner the reply.
And even God,
-my God,
-your God,
-our God
has to ask
WHY?