by Ralph Koschnitzke

Created on: May 04, 2010

I once was fed stories, of past, now and future,
But I knew when I read my old wisdom found…
That your words would echo in the ears of unsuspecting strangers, but…
Words do not add up, and I can't count the number of untruths.
So what is left is like eating a partially cooked TV Dinner...
Remember how those used to taste?

You dared your own omission of admission into the circle of my compassion,

A poet looks up after his meal a prepares a prayerful goodnight to a springtime constellation,
As empathy releases its embrace when those stars burst in emendable grace.
Remember why was it important to see the proof in your face?

I ask you in this suspicious season, to give up one simple reason,
Out of arbitrary imperfect attrition to raise up like leaven in bread,
I leave the table with promises held up until this peculiar taste clears.
In addition, why should I shed one single tear?

This last supper has turned cold with a dessert called disciples of unanswered questions,
Frozen into a mixture of lust, denial, and avarice, missing more important ingredients.
Only a penitent heart beckons a peaceful explanation.
Will countenance await a shameless act of contrition?

Laughing at heaven, as I pull frozen irony from 7-11
Out a flavor of Ben & Jerry’s attempting to melt into my soul
While transcending bits of half-baked truth, are dished out.
One spoonful shows sweetness is just a complex saccharine seduction.
How could anyone ever know without truly tasting it?

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