Cliff Poems

Fun and Games Debate with God

As the sun grows shorter and my hair grows longer,
 I am offered proof that time moves forward.

Against this backdrop for days and years,
 a skeleton-self survives its environment's deal.
 
It perceives sounds-
a knock on the door, a Spanish conversation,
a bottle breaking on the ground-
which it justifies as existence.
 
But then it lays straight down,
sleeps and dreams of the very same means
and oh don't they too feel real.
 
Pondering both,
it looks for a stable Truth and finds faith with things to do.
 
Confused what to believe,
on its rough knees before the judge of insanity,
it takes the easy instinct way out-
    chooses Control
 
Control to stand and run from the scary,
dismiss the creepy, grab a lady's hand
make money and fly to China
 
China is not far,
far from the tired (closer perhaps)
coming with a grip so tight and enticing.
 
As bones and brain share a platter,
feed matter into mind, try mind over matter, coexist,
  a skeleton grows weary.
 
Spare it tonight this nightmare (so real)
spare it this prayer (so fake)
spare it one moment
  safe back in the essence (so realfakeall)
  to endure more of the others
      touching hard


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Fun and Games Debate with God

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