Fallen Angels

 

Stammered words stagger

from hammered lips,

missed moments,

pavement and fists kissed

and destroyed

under the yellow streetlights.

Fallen angels spit

blood upon the sidewalk.

Talk about lives lost

and how they sold their wings.

 

We thought things

could only get better

we were wrong.

Write another song.

This one’s not for the party,

hardly anything worth celebrating

anymore.

We’re too busy making war.

 

Too busy shading the kept men

from justice,

while the rest of us just suffer

through more of this substanceless

culture.

And yes,

that’s a war, too.

You can see the vultures circling,

working at tearing the flesh

off the bones

of some young starlet.

Body dumped in the desert,

while back at the studio

the director covets

fresh meat.

 

I believe

we used to see

the good in each other.

Brothers, sisters,

fathers, mothers,

neighbors, friends,

doctors, teachers,

soldiers, grocers,

police officers,

and those that made our communities strong,

and brought us closer.

Not for profit, or clout,

but to protect us

from the chaos without.

 

Shout now,

and your voice just joins the noise.

A whole world poised

to jump

from the frying pan

to the fire.

Desire to immolate,

instead of create

a new future.

Maybe we’re just Sims

in a computer,

but even then,

we still matter.

 

Before we disappear

into the hereafter,

we have a voice,

a job,

am mission;

we can change,

regardless of our position

in the equation.

We can keep raising

our eyes to the sky

and keep praying.

We can reach down

to the ground

and raise children.

We can reject

the harmful effects

of all of this poison.

 

Choices we make, make us.

We are all chosen.

See a broken angel fly,

try to remember,

you too are a special creature.

No different than those

that held you close

and watched you grow.

Slow and steady

we go

into tomorrow.

 

 

HG – 2022