divine image – poems 2 die for

AFTER THIS

after this
you ask me

not what
forgiveness

but what
salvation, what
resurrection?

but in the absence
of principle
I cannot answer
I do not know

mine is a ramshackle
up-down, on-off
lesser evil, beyond
good
and evil kind of spirituslity

but this is
a crime beyond crimes
in the eyes
of God
were he willing
to open them
were he
prepared to see

and all this
blood
this carnage

it cannot but have stained us
smashed that mirror into
shell shrapnel, bomb
splinter sized
     needle-like fragments
the one
     in which
divine likeness
         was seen

wounds
need healing, and
all these wounds

are
self-inflicted

ask me
later

not now not now
later I may again believe
in something, in humanity
in purpose
and vision

today
but today

just short of hopeless for me

silence better
than these paltry words here

FOR THE GODS

“which to Angels look like torment and insanity”
― William Blake

Made in the divine image
(thus
fabricated)

but how come
we get
so demonic

allow ourselves this
most poisonous pleasure

succumb to the devil
in us

from
time to time
to most
apocalyptic
of times

all the time
(that
divine image getting
pretty mutated)

and then (stop me
and contest this) when

we think the divine
we get
so divisive

cannot tolerate difference
become uniquely genocidal

and so
here the question begging
to be asked (so
superb in
question-
begging)

which of all these
blood-soaked, blood-
spattered
images

is the one with true sanction
the one

from above?

All
from

below
equally above.