Posted on February 13, 2013April 15, 2021 God’s Cavalcade There is a man who lives up the road He walks 20 miles a day for milk Bread, cigarettes, peace He talked a while ago About the upcoming War between the haves and have-nots I wondered if I should be afraid But that was before his son threw him Off their porch Breaking his arm Explanation became evident In the bruises peeking through Constant self-deprecation on Those zero degree mornings As he sat, my passenger, and I The ride he prays for in winter And I wonder what he dreams At night next to his heartless wife In the trailer, in the one room That’s not his son’s I wonder what he has other than Complaints about the empty wall That used to hold the rented flat-screen That was sold by wife and son for $100 His type is legion 30 winters in this god-forsaken landscape And I know creation is a joke Free of will Free to suffer Blows to the sacred empire God loves you? Tell this to the walking man The thin stick of humanity Face lined like a map going nowhere At two miles an hour Tell him he’s one of Jesus’ children Take him to Rome ensconced in luxury For his silence for I have yet to hear him curse Rail about his scat-littered life This socio-diversity for god’s pleasure This constant cavalcade of misery I can see it as he trudges past my porch Hunched deep in cold tattered jackets He is blind but for his need for milk Bread, cigarettes, and peace 0.000000 0.000000 Share this:ShareFacebookWhatsAppEmailRedditLike this:Like Loading...