You can’t see it clearly,

you don’t even know

the emptiness of all of it,

cause you’re so caught up

in the afterglow

of everything you’ve conquered

of everyone you’ve bought,

the arms of empty strangers,

the love of all your stuff

that even now disintegrates,

gets beaten up and scuffed.

For all your fancy shoes,

new coat, new hat, new shirt,

you’re naked on the inside

and caked in your own dirt.

Fill up on all your

trifles. Consume all that you can.

Nothing but the best for you,

nothing but the shiniest

will do for you, oh man.

Dare anyone stop you

from filling every void

of the soul that you have

traded for the world

you have enjoyed?

For all your hands

are grasping, for all that you

can hold,

you’re emptying like

a circling drain.

You’re never fully


Given blessing

after blessing

and glory before your face,

you’ve opted out of grasping

every chance you have for grace.

But you can’t see the glory.

You’re blind and

deaf and dumb

and you’re numb

to the feel

of the blessing of the hands

that long to love you,

love you long and real.

You bite the hands that feed

you and

bruise the hands that heal.

You kiss the mouths of strangers

and honest lips despise,

you strip yourself of dignity

and clothe your guilt in lies.

No rich cologne could

ever mask your

shit coated veneer.

But, child of God,

you’re not so far

or dirty

or lost

or alone

that heaven itself won’t rend its clothes,

know nakedness

and want

and emptiness

and loneliness

and all the things you fear…

No you’re not so far away that

heaven can’t come near.

You never left

Your father’s house,

You played by rules

And kept your hands

So clean.

You followed creed

And family precedent

In every prayer and

Faithful deed.

You sang the songs

And danced along

The narrow road

And ate the bread

And bowed your head.

You worked and toiled

With reverence and fight,

But not with spite,

The chains that

You knew would just

Entangle like a snare

Out there

Where devils

Permeate the air,

And lie in wait to

Decimate like crouching

Lions at the gate.

You stayed beside him

And held his hand

As he cried

And watched his

Other pride and joy

cast all and everything


For whores and things

And diamond rings

To reap a whirlwind


But how it burns

When he returns,

And open arms

Fling wide.

When running foolish

Like a child, through

Mud and filth he’ll

Pass, he makes

A joke out of himself

To welcome a hopeless,




Used up


Your feigned delight

In sacrifice was

Empty as a tomb

painted white and


And placed in a sacred room

That has just

Been claimed as party

Town for the dirtiest guy


Your perfect coffin,

Nice and neat,

Is a table now laid

Out with the richest

Bread and finest wine

On which the

Dirty one will dine.

And the place that was

Your home

Feels now more like

Your cage as

You wriggle

And you squirm

And give way to the rage.

And the bitterness


Like a plant that grows

And then shrivels again

Because it was

Eaten by a worm.

You might be the lost son… The question is, which lost son are you?

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