The Wrong Direction

The river runs the wrong direction.

“The afterlife is postponed,” said Heaven. 

      “I am the king of everything!” said the homeless man outside of the 7/11.

“I need you to lead me!” pleaded the poet’s girlfriend.

     “I need you to bleed me dry while I get high,” said the poet to his girlfriend. 

“I need you to love me even when I push you away,” said the poet’s wife.

     “I need another drink,” said the extremely handsome poet. 

“I need you to make love to me again,” said the poet’s mistress. 

    “Give me a few more minutes,” said the poet. 

The river runs the wrong direction today. It’s very strange.

    The wind is blowing fiercely out there.

Yesterday, God shook his fist at the poet and his mistress. 

    The Devil licked his lips. 

The sun sang a song to the birds.

    The doctor fixed the blackbird's broken wings, freeing her from her cage. 

The fighter has finally run out of rage. 

     The doctor watched the blackbird taste freedom, 

Before she flew right back into her cage. 

     The poet wrote until he ran out of page.

Then he took their pain, and turned it into something great. 

     Lilith turned on the fates, she will cut their strings before the final bell rings.

Earth turned upside down. 

    The fighter managed to get up for another round.

The writer stumbled, drunk, around town.

    God wept for him. 

The Devil forgave his sins. 

    Lilith taught him how to overcome his lust. 

And Carl Sagan reminded him he lives on a speck of space dust. 

CH 3/16/26