Headhunters
by
Leonardo da Vinci E
 
                         Headhunters--live for to see you dead
Watching in glee as you tap-dance on life’s thin edge, lingering, but never to actually live
And you have no thoughts of any enemies standing by disguised as friends
                         Who won’t let you in to breathe or out to leave
And each heave of your chest to draw a breath, must come to protest every loss of love along the way
One by one like rows of dominoes fallen each other after the other--down
                         Has drowned each lover that had made an offer or that stood secretly found
On wings that fly them away in this gusty gale you made, where even your sadness has grown rusty
Headhunters, with slews of lewd voodoo dolls they intend to use--to stick pins in to master your moods
And each doll has a name: beer, cigarette, speed, meth, cocaine--all the same
                         And I the poet, the snitch, can channel what’s in their heads
And I know they live to see you dying until you are dead in a pathetic fit
                         --with a piss on it!
To see you flung into a minister’s hissy fit of a hell on earth--and to smell!
                         And all the poets will tell--that the headhunters stood by snickering
At circles broke out around your eyes, at an addict’s hastily placed goodbyes
At that shallow glare in your jaundiced eyes, choked up with a puke in which your tongue lies--
To lie a Lie--that this is the last time to slip (when you actually skipped) down that hellish hole
                         Dark, dank, and deep
In search of a high with naughty cries for freedom and liberty to let you in so you can claw your way out again
                         And headhunters standing by snickering
But on some days like today you’ll say, “hope has sprung up like the dawn”
                         But I know it’s your enemy, from where you’re from
                         And soon to be a slain friend
                              --with blood on it
                         Strangled by your wickedest grasp
                              To lay with a gasp dying
                         And so dawn becomes--a sunset
                              Hope--lying with a raspy sigh
                         Like a sickened murmur upon the wind and sky
                              Its burial nigh
                         But for the final twist
                         One more breath to take
                              And your insanity at stake
                         To be mistaken for something sane
                         To have hope as a neighbor or a friend
To pit it against this ghetto existence--in vain
                         Sure not to let you in--to actually live cuffed to drugs’ golden chains
So why not stop it here and now?
                              Or you’ll strangle hope
                              Dying until hope is dead
                         Headhunter’s sneering and snickering by its death bed
                         While you stand in the spotlight, actually a flashlight--ugly, bloodied and red
                         With all out hopes for you--dead
                         And the poets will tell--snitches all--
                         That the headhunters stood by snickering at your final curtain call.

​We Are the Atheists (Murderers of All the Gods)
by Leonardo da Vinci E.

I am a truth sayer and a God-slayer 
And it is my honor never to have willingly—slain a man
But for to take his hand—in peace
But no gods have lived after there was I
To see them standing there alone, before my sword
Owned for its truth to fall upon them
And you know in your heart the reason
Apollo, Zeus, Isis, Odin
And many more are all slain
And why to worship them now—is considered a shame
As truth has one by one called them by name—to justice
And now there is left only one eternal flame
          Left to extinguish—I am stalking
And he shakes mightily to hide himself
Lest my eyes fall upon even his shadow
Where I yet upon his trail
Will not fail but to slay his frail and false morality
His invisible and thus immoral heart
And what will ye serve then—Oh humanity?
When that moment comes and you realize you
Were really all alone under the sun
With only physics and yourselves
And being freed from heaven or hell—unprepared!
But we the humanist have prepared a place
For thee—Oh humanity
To dry your eyes after all the lies have been defined
And what to do now is to serve the good
For the purpose of destroying chaos—my love
To serve the fairness for the sake of an orderly peace
To do justice for to establish a reason for love
To worship courtesy as the prerequisite for human contact—my love
With concepts we’ll call ethics
Because morality mixed with mysticism, hatreds, and superstitions
          will be dead
And all their imaginary Gods
Slain by humanist atheists