Roman Collar Man (whoRu)

Bibles and Sacraments
Baptismals and
so many
Stations of The Cross

Roman Collar Man
whoRu
as your words seduce children
as you
hide behind confession
church law
and bankruptcy
to protect your reputation
to protect your assets
to protect your perversions
and your supply
of innocent souls
and young virgins

i smell your evil stench
from behind your defiled crosses
your pedohile sanctuaries
y is the Holy See
so blind

satan so pleased
by token measures
meant2appease
by secret measures
meant2protect
evil in your ranks

Roman Collar Man
who pretends to stand
in His Light
and who lives
above man’s law
above God’s law
in the name
of The Father
of The Sun
and The Holy Spirit

will u ever be cast out
from among the ranks
of the Holy by a Church
that is not as holy
as it Pretends to be

copyright 2020: all rights reserved

photo: 1light (January 2020)

living@102fps


steel shiny
rubber rolling
windshield worlds
click, click, click
of my smartphone
driving@102fps

hotel suites
staff know my name
packed lunches dinners
complimentary breakfasts

then suit-up time
buttoned-down or t-shirted
(superman had his cape: ive got my blazer) and jeans
this psychologist’s uniform

preparing to understand
kids yelling punching soiling @102fps
parents struggling denying
enabling offending

another deep deep plunge
back into the infinite flow
of young faces hiding
tortured souls and secrets
finding dna of their pain

“abused”
“neglected”
“in placement”
“rights terminated”
are never just words
bandied about

so many violated kids
i gotta gotta know
102 feet per second
day in
day out
barely keeping up

“depraved”
“heartbreaking”
“tragic”
all those realities apply

lived their prisons
felt their rages
knew their numbness
storms before my calm
lived decades before
lived lives ago
lived PTSD life
always fighting
always dying
rising up again
until no1Left2fight
but me

being part of their journeys
starting their evolutions
of making mountains into
pebbles on their paths
helping them find miracles

when the evals all done
it’s never barely mentioned
each a stranger again

afterwards i
slip off the sport coat
slip into the car
meditate and
send out healing
as i heal@102fps

copyright 2020: all rights reserved

photo: untitled windshield landscape (Trout Run, PA)

Cutters, Huffers, and Suicide Kids

September 20 Kueka Wine Trail 1311

cutters, huffers, and suicide kids
look at me over toys scattered ‘cross my office floor
as we start helping them to forsake the shelter that comes with hurting

to them, i’m “Mr. John” or the bald guy in the suit coat
who has the cool toys and asks the billion questions
that they don’t have to answer if they don’t want to
despite what their mothers say or instruct or admonish

am i not the first hope and not the last but one of an endless string
on their paths from a devastated childhood toward their ultimate hopelessness?

no, i never feel that way, not even when the budding sociopath
makes the hair on the back of my neck turn into tiny knives
when he smiles and calmly says, “hitting animals is very wrong”

i’ve seen their parents
or, at least have heard about them
fathers who beat mothers, fathers who executed mothers, homeless families evading CYS and the police
and
the molesters, the Meagan Listers who were framed by the state,
who bathed their girlfriend’s sons and daughters, who didn’t know
that girl was 14 because, man, she knew what she was doing

and, the mothers
mothers who have children with each new boyfriend
before the men magically disappear after sowing seed through before delivery, their time away measured by the length of the PFA
and discussed with the DV victim in terms of the child’s age

i’ve met the foster parents
who brave the fears their families have voiced
and opened their hearts and homes to these children
as these new-to-them parents embark on missions to provide structure
consistency and nurturance to little hearts so badly broken
they can’t fathom lives beyond cutting, huffing and suicide

 

copyright 2109: all rights reserved
Photo: Healing Hands (Keuka Lake, NY 2015)

For Lillian

this girl
who came storming into being
with a whirlwind
has sharpened all i’m seeing

she so articulates her words
and prances with such care
hear her
see her
there, there, and there

what a child
what a smarty
insightful and mild
loving and oh so arty

i love you, my dear
as you walk your path
and embrace each year
and we share each laugh

know with each step you walk
and in each hour
when we joke and talk
and you blossom like a flower
i will protect you like a hawk