just ask the deaf

 
 
 
standing in stinking  
cat piss rain,  
 
soaked to the bone  
with the ammonia  
of doubt.  
 
uttered a silent prayer  
to God,  
"Where do I point the  
  gun?"  
 
asked the gun,  
"Where do I find  
  God?"  
 
ask John the Baptist,  
Joan of Ark, John  
Brown.  
how would they  
answer?  
 
the earth turns in  
it's grave,  
 
the early bird gets  
the bone,  
 
the poppies get a  
needle high.  
 
a page turns  
and;  
 
nobody understands  
the next sentence,  
 
life sentence,  
 
but don't finish  
the sentence.  
 
it's has already  
been written  
down by a hand  
far more fragile  
than ours.  
 
the trip goes on,  
but is never  
finished,
 
and
God  
speaks  
in  
broken  
tongues.