UNGA
The Sin
Her pushing, while crying,
is a story, in the telling
a beginning, another is coming,
ordained at labor, a divine reckoning
this pain my brother-
- is the sin of your father,
and that of your mother!
Before this, it was forbidden
everything else was given,
but among us, are creatures heathen,
crawling on their bellies, fallen from heaven!
this pain my brother-
- is the sin of your father,
and that of your mother!
You shall moil,
You will toil,
to reap from this soil.
the deceiver did not spoil,
it was the deceived, inside the pot of boil!
the earth is hard and sad,
it no longer gives in glad,
there are thorns and thistles to discard,
dawn till dusk – sweat, tears and blood!
this pain my brother-
- is the sin of your father,
and that of your mother!
On this ground,
they shall lay me underground,
as I was, before anyone was around
sin is soaked here, it was once and profound!
Die and you shall....
Die and you shall see,
what they will do, is
-what they should have done.
Die and you shall hear
what they say - is,
-what they should have said
Tense so intense
Like a Vowel
I am caught between consonants,
constantly.
just as you see,
that's me
do you not see?
the tense as intense
so I am telling,
as if speaking,
and writing
in my mind, I visited,
the now gone,
where I came from,
in a past progressive,
when I was playing with words,
constructing these ones,
constantly-
presently the tense,
is perfect and progressive!
still writing,
still telling
could have been perfect and simple
like that tense,
before now I had,
spoken some of these words
like a vowel I am caught
between consonants
in some tense so intense
to be simple?
I will still be writing and telling
when it comes,
I will have written,
lines of words and code
that I would not be speaking,
or not telling or writing,
so they will not be listening
or reading
but...
I will have said
the words
I would have spoken,
written or told
like a vowel I am caught
between consonants
in some tense so intense