it’s going to feel good, very good,

it’s going to make you empowered,

it’s a free pass, a pardon, a look the other way,

what’s there not to like?

certainly you’ll never be in a better shape,

you’ll be raised among the angels,

the red carpet thrown out from here to

the north star,

your north star.

evil is not how you would describe

this pleasant, bubbly sensation,

why you’re already wearing a smile,

congratulations are on the way

as you look towards the beautiful sunset.
littered with bones,
the ones you knocked down below the belt,
littered with decompose,
with flowers arising from those that got in your way,
littered with memories,
theirs will never see the light of day.

you dismiss such wandering thoughts,
when you muse – it turns to but i am strong.
you dismiss such frivolous emotions,
they are for losers.
you dismiss the nagging tug this isn’t right,
you look at yourself in the mirror: i am right.

kudos to you – then little specks grow
like bats,
bats taking wings into the sun,
your sun.

feels like they are blocking the light
that is you – pieces of you
each grabbing a sparkle, a silver lining,
though they say it was never yours to begin with.

that’s how chaos begins, but it’s always been
this way: you just stood at the other end.

hey maybe you’ll never get burned, get scorched
by whims trying to take your glory,
it’s happened many times before,
and yet shadows are hard to predict,
they move with a life without
flesh.

for flesh has long died,
you know – that kind of hope
for a better day?

power corrupts, lame.
power feels good. correct
which is why more and dried
dust have gathered,
taking refuge in
a coal pit
ready to become incensed!

all your puppets do what you want,
dire consequences come if not,
they do what you want,
then you say you did something good.

that’s power working … …

if goodness and evil had to do with power,

then i guess

you’re right. and you’ll always will be,

as long you hold the strings, just don’t get
in the way of shadows or dust,
they tend to be a little uncontrollable.

and god remains silent, as usual,
you, dust, shadows –
form, shape, transform god.

there is a reckoning, there always is,
you hear it when your bones chill
even though it is summer,

a reckoning, they whisper,
pah – you say: who says what
as you clutch on to power
even near death. who dares?

silence. the kind of silence you like,
it means you are right,
does this bring you comfort?

fade, away, into oblivion –
if god, hell and heaven
did not exist,
men would make it up
for what you did.