Message in a Bottle

Sinister hands shroud the face of the sun;
ordinary people walk in shadows—
communicate in unexpected ways.                   

Are they so innocent, those who walk in a daze?

One fears to speak out loud unspeakable
things, but sadly true nevertheless; hearts
press hard into telepathic service.          

Rest in truthfulness and not in vain lip service.
 
Football has now passed Jesus in the polls.
Woe to the child caught unawares; perverts
 pardoned due to unreasonable doubt.

Madness becomes inflamed when evil prowls about.

Words gush like water, brackish with gray lies;
unscience, cooler than truth nowadays, 
five o’clock rock stars live their heydays. 

 A fact may be blown up for political plays.

Politicians may think themselves funny; 
and alas, they are a bloody riot—
waiting to happen in neighborhood streets.

Gone are days when the citizen vote bought the seats.

Splashed on covers, unconstrained streams of ink
muddy open minds on wasted paper;   
hates bellow between the high sounding lines.

Eyes do not plainly see, nor do ears hear the signs.

In the wilderness, voices cry to God; 
reason calls out over magnetic waves
to brothers who hide in anonymity.

Distant brain waves sent, need no close proximity.

Uneasy souls shout while grave hearts listen. 
Come over here, my dear, rest for a while: 
Time is up; and time takes no prisoners.  

Dread, quite out of control, is beyond reasoning.

Messages wash up on ocean beaches 
in trusty old bottles, some float ashore—
hang-in, they say; fear not, though time grows short.

Once in a while such messages of hope exhort.

We will fine-tune our skills of discernment;
hear with tender ears of the inner child;
and give to others the grace they desire.

Now it is time to tap into heavenly wires.