Minor Gods

Minor Gods

Man builds thrones for himself;

Places where as minor gods we sit,
Hunkered slightly, half-expecting
Lightning bolts for our bloody impudence.

And when they do not come - the fiery bolts
A little smile comes 'cross the face
Of minor deity as the thought occurs,
"Damned, I may have got a way with it."

It is then the God they thought
Was not watching comes to call
And claim His due - a soul to pay
That cannot even save itself, when all is done.

© 2015 by Tom King

 

Apoca-Lips

Apoca-Lips

 A young man doesn't always think with his head

There are often less admirable organs in play;

When decisions are made - those go/no go choices,

That you come to regret at the end of the day. 

I made a few bad ones in the interminably lonely

Years spent blundering up and down and everywhere.

I spent my energy in a frantic and stumbling search,

Knowing in the hard world, you were still out there.

Lips are stupid things that dull the wits and heat the brain.

Seven times I found myself fired off the wrong direction,

By gunpowder kisses, laced with hormones and fire till at last

I learned to keep them closed - for my own protection. 

Stupid me I never thought that you might not be

An ardent kisser; that you might be a creature

Of wind and fire, mind and passion more than I ever,

Bargained for, and that lips are but a single feature.

And in the end I found that passion is not the thing

I thought it was, when I was young and hormone-raged.

 I've learned a steady fire heats passion better than explosions.

And has settled in my soul; grown ever deeper as we've aged. 

(c) 2015 by Tom King