EXCERPTA / FRAGMENTA # 76 by J.T.BLEU

The commands of a divinity.

Will you resist?

Some Ezekiel speaking for G-d? 

Claiming the future past?

Invoking scribbled text on a Nazarene wall

With warnings of blood guiltiness laid at

Our feet?

It's like it never happened.

And so,

You watched the approaching bus.

Motion Make Me Poetic

Pressing keys, moving pointers, the poet paints and plays,

he thinks things through.

It doesn’t mean he grasps reality,

it means something else.

It’s true; he’s a failure in business.

He draws badly, too, and sometimes he composes edgy songs (that suck) on a guitar.

And all the mediocre photos in the world--the ones he takes with his iPad--are no true penance.

His books must forever be rewritten,

because he believes in immortality.