Probably Nothing

Show me your Oracle your Isis
the source of Promethean vices
The guffawing gladiators of thoughts
made for befuddleing the ”have not’s”

In fidelity to logic, what use to Pluto
de facto would your soul be on Juno?
Allah and Abraham allowed little choice
all their children chime in the same voice.

Silly putty and midieval meandering,
let Africans find Christ through Krishna
a ’christmas gun sale’ and Ja is fighting
Jesus, while Cronos is loose and looting

Hades on a business trip bargaining for souls
with Niké for commercial acting roles
while the tribe of Judah banks on Buddha
for the next Olympian flame.

More manipulating old thoughts
for control of bigger juggernauts
only Amor’s bow is never aimed low if
you are mortal.

This entry was posted in Poems.

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