. . . waters of the spleen


It swaggers mightily
Over crossroads of contention
Spewing bitter herbs
Seeded deep
Into the memory of blood
Let into cups of loathing
And
Emptied by the drunkard sons
Of ageless ghosts

It rampages down highways
Of haggard faiths
Beating its chest savage
And spitting cries of revenge
On the lips of fathers
Who blindly usher their babes
Into the arms of pregnant harbingers
Manly wombs
Issuing imps, fear and greed

It feeds in delirium
Upon the hearts impaled by cowards . . .

Hatred

And swiftly returns the noxious beam
Into the eye of the grieved

Hatred . . .

Flowering hatred

It wears a heavy coat of conceit
Upon its bulging back

Carrying hatred

Hatred . . . Hatred

It stalks the voices of compassion
And cowers
Behind sightless justice
Scattering the faithful
Who wait upon the mount

“Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they shall be called the children of God”

We beseech thee

Laughing
Hatred
Spreads its arms
Gathering all who will listen
Feeding them
With loaves of crowning retribution
And waters of the spleen

Author:
jeanne ren
É

© 3/04

bar