Kids in Florida

The Trials of Nuremberg

never slowed down the anguish

that man tried to pass on within a stepping stone

of dissociated guilt…

And if Buddha is your “thing”

Well then bow down to the chanting

harmony of want…

Do we ever climb into the space that

saves seventeen kids? Theorize what

agony is within our own little mind…

Prancing with false bravado…a

Twitter rant or faceboob comment about

how actors can play the role of deviant

political farce…

Then the sickening larva will

lick their glistening lips…looking

over the bodies of souls in camps or

step around the blood of a freshman band member…

Crying “the horror, the horror…” That was good

enough for Marlon Brando…but it could never

extinguish the rationalization of another, another

Pathetic look-away.

Dan Provost

Devout

At length

we are born to wonder…

My God is better

than yours—but,

in the end…the same place

will be dark…

Rancid…

Smelling of sweat.

Deep –we will think

for years, but settle

nothing…in failure

mode of whatever

sin may be in vogue

today…

Dan Provost

Jesus in the Garden

 Gethsemane…

You begged.

You failed.

Others have pleaded

on a smaller stage,

Maybe not with big

time consequences…

But tasted the poison too…

And they wanted to get out just

as much as you did…

When their sentence was announced

and the blood refused

to stop flowing…

All of you died…

Some with fanfare…

Others in fields in

the middle of nowhere…

Jesus…your morality is commendable

An unselfish spirt …

Who to some, was killed

for our sins…I just

know of others

who took the quiet

way out…No prayers

or books were written

about them…Some

pained faces, staring

into a faceless mirror…

Day after day after

day…

Dan Provost