The daylights trickle-drip to darksky nights.
He lives a werewolf life: steady all day,
but howling mad demands as wanes the light.
A man’s a creature who feels, thinks and prays.
A man’s a broken toy left on playroom floor
Unloved, bereft of limb or head, he becomes more —
exceeds the Maker’s plan, becomes a wound
a prophecy a jig and tune of doom.

Where’s my little girl? I need to be terrible.
I’ll bend her shape and trust to suit my plan
I’ll whet her whistle and guzzle my fill
She must believe me a worthy force: A Man.
Every crime that’s etched in wicked history
begins with men who need to own the mystery
of life, of love — her sex, affection, faith.
All’s righteous if it keeps their cuddles safe.
Men and women are genitals and lonely shoulders,
are serpents snaked around their broods,
are these tawdry animal levers dressed up in excuses

but no
not so terrible
dressed up also
in art and thought
in prayer and compassion
in the Godlight they house and obscure
but that in the fulness of timespace always overwhelms its casing

What is romantic love?
What are the systems that allow for it to be decent?
The more corrupt the nation, the more difficult it is to be both successful and decent, and the more “not successful” means “also doesn’t even have the ability to provide one’s family with basic goods like clean drinking water, a safe place to live, and a chance to succeed”.

Who cares?
Some broken hearts reach deep into the gut
and can’t figure out a way to grow into love
Who cares?
Sometimes they start to find a path but its overgrown
with brambles and “come here be my little girl!” and “don’t hurt me!”
Who cares?
That he must needs spew this empty rhetoric
and doesn’t know who might want to hear it
Who cares?
That the man hatches so slowly from the scars
better that way better than a sudden movement
Who cares?
That he starts with I love you I love you I love you
and ends with
strange incantations
belched out of labyrinthian caverns
Who cares?
his desperate attempt to climb out of himself
to meet a woman
in a way that
everybody can manage and live with and live and die into
for to mate or to pray is to die, is to accept
that
your body and mind are not eternal truths
that you
are another butterfly swept along by warm winds to the butterfly trees
to finally touch another living soul as you leave life
Who cares?
We have seen the evil
We have felt the evil
It is a man who won’t take no for an answer
from a woman from a man from a child from an organization from a nation
this is the impulse of evil — to force oneself onto others
And self-righteous evil is the most common kind because people who are not paying attention to the soul forget how much they need to be loved and they can’t even ask themselves what love might be like, and so they make a mess of their quest
they make a mess of the essential human quest for love
Who cares?
Yes, there is an abandoning sort of love —
but it usually comes because the “lover” has gotten tired of using this particular “beloved” and finds himself needing to take another “lover”, by which I mean “victim”, by which I mean “willing or unwilling sucker”, for all victims — no matter how aware they are of the predicament and how they resist — are suckers, because that’s what evil turns everything it touches into: fodder, suckers, losers. Evil recognizes only might-makes-right; evil sees everyone as either a sucker or a winner, a loser or a winner. Evil is committed to war on the spirit, to war on the faith that this life is more than just material and that humans are something deeper and wider than their urges and that human success is something more than satisfying human urges.
That is what we’ve been talking about all along here. That is what we are trying to get you to feel in your gut in the same moment you honestly access what Donald Trump and his GOP have done and have thereby become.
What they are up to is evil.
It’s not hazy.
It’s not confusing.
It’s not ambiguous.
It is straight forward
might makes right,
truth is whatever I need it to be
and
love is winning is conquering is not losing here in this mortal life

You are what you serve in this life.
That is what you take with you when you die.
And only the Love that chooses everything has a place in the Kingdom of Heaven.
I say this not as a saint or an enlightened guru.
I say this as your own heart and mind as what you already know more clearly than you know the ideas and feelings that might prove or disprove it.