Sourdough,
good ham,
codeine.
A sandwich,
a sip or two…
tang on tongue;
then, relief in head.
Hanging
in a hammock, at rest,
reluctant
to let go all my awareness
and slip under the
surface, but
I say it’s time
and vanish into
flavor, music,
thought,
worship.
Yes,
worship:
why do you care how I get to my God?
How is my path more false than yours?
I also break bread, sip syrup, am redeemed.
The only difference
is in the distance
to my Paradise.
Dark Matter 
June 20th, 2012 at 12:13 pm
Wow, you have a wonderful flow. I just read another poem on a wordpress site that reminds me a lot of this one, but it was stated in a completely different manner. Awesome!
If you could, check out my blog- we’re a few Toronto writers that have put together something like a digital open mic. Any criticism or comments would be welcome!
June 20th, 2012 at 12:51 pm
Thank you, and I shall check out your blog. (Big fan of Toronto, by the way — almost moved there a few years back.)
June 20th, 2012 at 1:10 pm
Nice, where are you based man?
June 20th, 2012 at 1:26 pm
Worcester, MA in the States. My old company had a job opening in their Toronto branch I was up for. Circumstances intervened or I would have taken it in a heartbeat…love that city.
June 20th, 2012 at 1:31 pm
Well, we hope that you still come to visit! =)
I actually stayed in Belmont, MA for a month, at the McLean hospital haha! Really creepy but beautiful area. I liked Boston too for it’s architecture, but I hear that (I guess like every major city) it’s got a underbelly that has pretty bad seeds planted in it.
June 20th, 2012 at 2:07 pm
That it does. Ditto for Worcester, too.