The prophets have abandoned us to our lies

“The second angel poured out his bowl into the sea, and it became
blood like that of a dead man; and every living thing in the sea died.”
Revelation 16:3

Estimated Prophet – © Geoffrey Philp

The prophets have abandoned us to our lies.

They’ve packed spare clothes, retreated to the Mojave

Where they can still bless wild, untamed spaces

Praise the elation of kestrels, their aerial dance

Away from smoke that poisons the brave,

Threads a man’s lungs and veins with fine lace,

Sweetens a mother’s milk that darkens her firstborn’s eyes:

Rattlers coiled under a Joshua tree stand a better chance.

And it’s no use begging like televangelists for them to come back

Who’d want to listen on the “burning shore” anyway?

Everyone knows true holy lands are way across the sea

And you can’t Twitter prophecy anymore than you can save

Pelicans from the spray of dispersants or mangroves from an oil slick.

No, better to mortgage our dreams. At least, that’s what the voices say.

Video and Poem © Geoffrey Philp’s Blog –

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