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should there be no shout?

should there be no alarm?

has darkness become light

and light become harm?


when the bearers of the light

see nothing

and the messengers have forgotten

even the very message they send

when darkness is the light within

and without there is dark indeed


and in the market place

they call for a song

and the minstrels sing

what their ears want to hear

the market place of the gathering

of those who call themselves holy

and leaders of the blind


who themselves see no evil afoot

who see no need to stamp it out

who see no cause for alarm

who see no need to raise the shout


but they remain not silent

there is indeed a cry


in the sanctuary

the cry of a baby

demanding milk

crying for comfort


and the cry for comfort

is not for those in anguish

or for those lost

nor for those in need

or for the desperate and the dispossessed

nor for those with nothing

but the cry is from those who are in abundance

who possess all things

and who need no thing

except comfort itself

and who comfort themselves

in need alone


the market speaks

and the prophets listen

those called to give


and the name inscribed on their forehead reads


and on their hands it is written



… and of their leader whose feet were dusty

and whose head owned no pillow

who had no place to rest his weary body

and no blanket but the stars


of this leader we still hear much

but not all

not even most

not even half


and the words we hear

are many words

not hallowed words

but hollowed words

words filled with emptiness

overrunning with empty promises

pretty words

hollow words

vain sonnets

odes to the consumer

love songs to the love sick

for those sick in love

in love with sick

odes to themselves

by the people

of the people

for the people


and the market cries out

and the prophets fear

and they fill the air with empty words

that itching ears love to hear


sick words

sick love

love sick


and this word is exalted

even above the name of the Lord God himself




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