In Trump

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Remain upon your thrones.
Just where it hurts the most.
Don't let any other in.
Judge their union as a sin.

You could never really win it all.
Take the loss and make it life.
Live the standard alibi.
Lie as if the lie redeemed your heart.
Too late, you tried to make another start.

The boomerang has now returned.
All the while gone, you burned.
Now it hits you right upside the head.
You wonder if the living dead have ever felt this bad.
Vaguely, you remember feeling glad to be alive.
Now the only thing you feel is strife.

Looking in the duplex mirror.
The alien is drawing near.
Wildly, your heart beats out a scream.
The dream turns into nightmare wealth.
Your mind becomes a sole that dwells alone.
A statue made of stone feels more than you.

You'd do anything to never pay the dues.
Sweet, the scent of morning dew when first you ran away.
You chose the fake of stage and called it home.
Never will your spirit roam beyond the shuttered doors.
You wanted more and sought duality.
Now watch the beaded rosary.
It shatters on the floor.

Your better half won't live there anymore.
Rub the golden idol, make it shine.
No genie ever really will arise.
Close the door and seal the tomb.
The pharaoh and his wife are finally home...

? Michaelette ?

6/6/2002
Copyright© 2002, Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .