“Holy tongues preach lives
outside their consecration
are incredible fuck ups,
back wash, rainbow trash can liners,
Come on Bukowski, I walked
right through your bird baiting
and never acknowledged the hypocrisy.
Those winged congregations
know how to sing harmony.
We loners sing solos at the top of our lungs
until the world throws us a finger to shut up.
Let’s have a beer, foam our upper lips with silence
until we get a little rose color on the horizon.
We might not reach harmony, but surely we
can find enough unity to create a melody.
Life is always gold before the tarnish.
Honey will eventually spoil if it is
tin spooned with Armageddon.
We can be the soft landing when
blackbirds no longer trust the nest.
©Susie Clevenger 2017
Poetic reference for today's poem