Holy Resemblance

Slight of hand with a side twist of fate
smoke and mirrors up in a puff vaporize
shifting grey eyes
grab a hold of what is near and dear
only one that gets out alive
is the Svengali in us all
with hands thrust deeply
in the back pocket of our neighbors
while holding a knife to the jugular
serial killers our partners in crime
sitting at the head of the table
cloth napkin falls to the floor
glances shoot subtle wish
never more never more
you lose either way willing
or unable
glass ceilings crack
at the thought of redemption
and there is a lack
of satisfaction when only a few
have the formula to what’s what
and how to get off without leaving a trace
and I look to your perfection
without question or concern
without biblical connection
like a wide eyed wonder child
from the hippie-drone era
non committal paradox
trapped in the four corners
of our flawless microcosm
cardboard latch key box
tipping the scales of justice
we look out with an air of superiority
our society’s majority is made up of a minority
that requires everyone else
turn the other cheek and trust us
as if we are the keepers of this world
pretending that the other side of the moon
bears witness to none
to all that we have to hide
all that we have done
behind closed doors shades drawn
you recall the sense of being
nothing less than a saboteurs pawn
an impossibility if one believes solely
in a greater power grand source
creator of all that is holy
left handed gun raised firing the final shot
…resembling all that we are not

© 2016 TrilbyYates

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