Constructing Hovels

Forced air whistling,
like the bray of forgotten prayers
in Apollo’s temple,
marble pillars strewn carelessly,
like Jenga blocks;
civilization unhewn,
earthquake shattered,
Vesuvius in her morning tantrum
shouts at the mirror,
pudgy face forgetting,
swollen, the disconnect
of action and reaction,
the unenlightened philosophy of the sinner
blackening each night
with the seeds of disdain,
shouting hatefully against
every harvest of tares,
cursing God for a liar,
every Saint for a thief,
the blackened book of irresolution
torn page by page
until only the cover remains.

Here is the hell we make,
brick by brick,
stirring the mortar willfully,
constructing hovels,
building our little shanty towns,
hating the instructions
of the wise men and women,
preferring our muddy independence
to lessons already learned.

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