The Wait

Dog days are over;
here's to happiness
left over at the bottoms
of rusty, old pans, and
dark thoughts at
the attic of our
dark minds.
You've waited
for happiness,
-and sadness, too-
And now, I
present it to you:
your euphoric fantasies
and excruciating griefs.
So, tell me, was it
worth the wait?

                                     Hand it over,
                                     you did your time
                                     so thank you very much.
                                   

They Were Gods

They too, were once, Gods.

Oh, and how far have they fallen.
Harder they hit, they say;
and the bigger they are, harder they hit.

Who was there to trust now?
Who to pray and who to lust?
If it were the end,
      the almighty lords were dead,
              if the inevitable oblivion shone upon
                        was there ever a battle that was won?

For what
have they fought?
Love -- definitely not.
     The unending greed 'twas, I presume,
            and the sound the winds made when they
                    licked the top of the huge white rocks.


Yes, they fought for the winds,
against the heavens,
for they did not have any wings,
-- nor any gods.

                                   Now, as the Aegean sun
                                   burns the top of their heads
                                   they feel gods there, packed
                                   in little crowds, sweating
                                   overwhelmingly.

Sweating and hiding,
for they wish to
betray them in deepest consequence.