Dogmatic - Poem by Adam Holmes
A church man talks of acceptance and salvation. I attempt to listen, but I’m a sucker for beer and women. Riddles wrote on parchment and bound into a neat package of ugly politics. A life lived in preparation to die.
-A soup kitchen for sinners
Dressed in glamorous rags, dime store suit and tie. Feast on famine; all you can eat ‘til you’re full at the ears. I’m still hung over from Saturday nights mass. The keg was tapped and we dashed from the cops, improvised sermons of bullshit and big fish storytelling save my soul from its chronic case of boredom.
-The abyss of ambiguity
A mind for hire, do with it what you wish. Scratch my belly I call you master, dogs have it best. Deciphering do’s and don’ts becomes cumbersome and cruel, and master puts food in its bowl. Loyalty is whored out to the most convincing voice, but dogs don’t understand speech. Only sounds.
-On whims of ignorance
Snapshots of contentment hang to my wall between the cracks of confusion. I'm scared of being right, or being wrong. A lose-lose location and I’m standing on the hyphen. I reach for my pen. Riddles I write and bind, an ugly package of neat fairytales. A life lived in preparation to live.
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