The End Of It All

I huddled in a glass-walled
booth outside the hospital,
dark clouds skulked out
of the south,

I smoked six foul smelling cigarettes,
waiting on the child
 born in Bethlehem of Judaea 
in the days of Herod the king,

April twenty-fourth,
and I was in between
a whisper and a scream
of artistic death,

Fearing the end of it all
as the old man jaywalked in the rain,
carrying a sign with a cross
carved with the words:

The end is near,
can ya spare 
some change 
for an old vet?

"I need some liquor," he said as
he grinned a gap-toothed grin,
flashing tattoos
as he held out his hands

A dagger through a rose
below King Neptune,
H o l d         F a s t
inked across his knuckles.

"It'll be over for ya'
know it son, this ain't a storm
I seen storms I thought God 
himself was ridin in them winds."

He limped away
with a handful of change
and my last cigarette,

Night came,
A child was born.


  1. Comments aren't open on your latest post, so I'm posting here :o) Just wanted to say that I think "I have empty hands
    and a mouthful of paradox"
    is a FABULOUS stanza!

  2. Thank you for the compliment.
    Thanks for following.
    I corrected the comments problem.
    Sometimes for an unknown reason "Do Not Allow Comments" is selected by default in the options.