Please don’t sit in my amen corner

while I’m preaching to the choir

Pull up your roots

Put up your dukes

Let’s put this rage to the wire.

This is not the country I pledged to

This is not the land of the free

But this is the country I’d die for

even as it bleeds for me.

It bleeds through the Veteran’s tears

through the elderly, poor, and the tykes,

through the denial of services for years

and the boys and girls sacrificed.

Bathe the altar with ignorant blood

Destroy totally public programs now

Eliminate everyone who’s objections flood

While apotheosis of a miscreant allow

The Queen of Heaven

The halls of the House of Heaven are adorned with blood of Her children
Refused the white alabaster once crested with silver, gold, and lapis lazuli
Now flowing with the blood of Her prostitutes, their pearls crimson with chaos
Surrender is refused, rejected, removed from the battle to prove submission
To offer power in glorious vestments rising from the throne of iniquity with grace
Descending into redemption with the drip of silk slithering with sequins suspended
The Queen of Heaven requires no sacrifices because She IS the sacrifice to death

Inanna Mine

She is the lioness with thorns in her feet, dripping orgasmic lust into her champions
Revealing and reveling in her descent to retrieve her consort, her soul, her spirit
Upon the landing in front of the gates of her Dark Sister’s kingdom, she is bared
With defiance only a sister can offer to the darkness within, she stands demanding
Intolerably thrusting her power of persuasive requests until intervention is required
She lays the last of her rosettes, her eight pointed star, at her sister’s feet
Bargain struck, The Lady of Uruk returns to her battled halls in the House of Heaven
The seven gates of the underworld reversed, laid bare of masks and protections
Enthroned within power, she alights with her scepter, a hook shaped twisted knot of reeds
She remains victorious over death, over the underworlds within, over the rape of her holiness


When I was growing up, military was a part of our family. My dad was a Seabee (Construction Battalion), later, my brothers joined the Army and the Marines. My Grandfather and great Grandfather were both Army. It was just accepted that to serve the United States of America was a great honor. My family was lucky enough to have our boys brought back home safely. For that I am grateful.

But there are those like this: “I have a POW/MIA bracelet that bears the name of a Michigan Marine that never came home. Robert Curtis Borton Jr. Missing since 1966 during his first few weeks in Vietnam. Please think of his family that lost him and the future he never had.”–Ron Martell

I wrote this with them in mind.


The bagpipes howl

“Amazing Grace”

Drums beat hollow

21 shots placed

The blackened sky

hangs its veil

The heavens give

a hero’s hail

to fallen comrade

man of war

from his daughter

and wife he’s torn

by seductive tendrils

of patriotic pride

under red, white, and blue

his final goodbye