hell is here to stay

The angel of the lord
Appeared on TV sets
All over the world

People woke up
Expecting to see
The usual suspects

Talking heads
Talking drivel
Talking trash

A stern visage
A stern old man
In a dark suit

He had a salt and pepper beard
And long, dark black hair
And piercing blue eyes
Staring out
From his stern face

The eyes
Piercing the soul
Of all who listened

The voice
Of the angel of the lord
Was like thunder


Breathes in guilt’s shame,
Consuming it, changing it,
Determining a new path,
Eager to begin again.
Forgive me my trespasses, Father,
Grant me peace.
Hear my plea, oh Lord-
Incantations to a deity,
Judge and jury to spiritual infractions.
Karma is a bitch they say;
Lead us not into temptation.
Melodramatic mockery to
Negotiate the ransom for
One’s immortal soul.
Pacify the gods,
Qualify the conditions;
Ramifications could be

Farm In The Valley — Sunset

Still the saintly City stands,
Wondrous work of busy hands;
Still the lonely City thrives,
Rich in worldly goods and wives,
And with thrust-out jaw and set
Teeth, the Yankee threatens yet —
Half admiring and half riled,
Oft by bigger schemes beguiled,
Turning off his curious stare
To communities elsewhere,
Always with unquiet eye
Watching Utah on the sly.

Long the City of the Plain
Left its image on my brain:
White kiosks and gardens bright
Rising in a golden light;
Busy figures everywhere


To Harriett .

Here at the Half-way House of Life I linger,
Worn with the way, a weary-hearted Singer,
Resting a little space;
And lo! the good God sends me, as a token
Of peace and blessing (else my heart were broken),
The sunbeam of thy face.

My fear falls from me like a garment; slowly
New strength returns upon me, calm and holy;
I kneel, and I atone...
Thy hand is clasped in mine — we lean together. .
Henceforward, through the sad or shining weather,
I shall not walk alone.

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