The Puritan Box

We dwell in the Puritan box

sex and dollars its decorative theme

windows absent like schools built to block

the remnant of stale cologne floating ev'rywhere

This is Pilgrim's progress

Beauty eluding the needs of soul

the realm of myst'ries falling deeper and drear

fathoms below our Imaged goals

Here scientist wince to stand in awe

for silence is the word not spoke

their cheap trash cov'ring ev'rything

like wallpaper cov'ring a shameful plot

It's a vulgar poverty 

a homelessness without God

no touch of human affection

no dance as the piano's played

but a stiffness that death understands

such that a morgue creates

the freezing clime of a guarded home

of  a society drowned in its lust for funds

Who would brave to open the door

expel the zombies polluting the air?

The entry could be a birthplace for life

swinging wide that the filth might pass

a trembling gate awaiting rain

a touch of affection that God could journey in