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

empty

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

beings

had acquired

their mantles

of power

and taken up

residence

in the choicest

quarters.

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

citizen.

Neighbors

have disappeared,

but similar injustices

happened before

the alien's arrival..

Violence and

violation

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.