Heaven’s Prisoners

Posted: September 2, 2013 in literature, poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Heaven's Prisoners

photo by Gualtiero Boffi

Holding the chalice

in reverence to

The Father,

  he performs

      by rote and

feels the gestures

   are empty,

    knows the truth is his ever growing

apathy, his ever burgeoning

      faith in nothing and no one

    as he wears the robes of Pope.


        She dances and


     her conscience

w/every strangers

paid desire

       for false affections,

   while her stone cold stare

    still searches, still dreams

of distant horizons.


      Struggling for breath

  w/every sob and wail,

the pale newborn

       in the equally pale

viewing room

   wrestles in solitary

‘cuz her mother is dying

     one floor up,

  the needle tracks glowing

  like burnished fire

      on her arms.


      The soldiers whip

  the flesh from

    a tortured farmer’s back.

 His family lies dead

at his feet,

    just because he disagreed

w/marshal law.


 Heaven’s Prisoners,

    yes we enjoy

our cages.

Fated to box-up

our dreams, our lives

     as true focus

 fades away.



Rod C. Stryker

This is a dark, older piece.


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