Sunday, November 13, 2011

poems by Joseph Farley

Joseph Farley

Heretic (3)
in andorra among the cathars
a soul waits to be collected
by the agents of the inquisition.
thumbscrews, hot pokers and the rack
wait in dungeons to redeem
this wayward heretic
so confession and redemption
can be stamped with a thumb print
on a canon's long parchment
before purification in cleansing flames
turns man into the purest ash.

Satori 12

wind and sky
blue oblivion
easy to get lost

like a bird
flying aimlessly

land and sky
and water and sun
river and mountain

all this to feed upon
and yet be

hunger always
for the horizon
or just over

After The Conquest

We did not know
about the invasion
until after it
was over
and the new ruling
had acquired
their mantles
of power
and taken up
in the choicest

As coups go
this was global.
Our new leaders
are inhuman,
but so far the change
has not been that bad.
They have sought
to clean up
the environment,
and end local feuds.
Sure, they do seize
and eat the occasional

have disappeared,
but similar injustices
happened before
the alien's arrival..
Violence and
have long been
the lot of the poor
and the chosen
who have fallen
out of favor.

I feel it is best
to give our masters
a chance,
the benefit
of the doubt.
Besides, what else
can we do?
Hold on.
I'll be right back.
There is someone
or some thing
knocking at my door.