gears moving so simply lockstep patterns of existence station to station disembarking on schedule to carry out the assigned tasks re-boarding as required as if returning a library book but this is to home or some facsimile created in a delusional state of mind but best you not go there with your thoughts just rewind and prepare for the new day
your window of opportunity appears to have closed while your were sitting in your favorite tavern caressing your beer and peanuts but don’t fret if you’re not reincarnated as a bar stool you may get a second chance
blood drawn the blade of ignorance pierces the skin of hope eyes of the future lose their focus rolling back into the skull of desperation but you must recall we are here but a short while we’re vagabonds of eternity trying to catch the first star to a dream
eyes emptied of hope stare into a mirror surveying an ancestry of pain charted on a once pristine canvas that held only colors of hope and joy now those rainbows hold no colors all that remains is a spear holding a sponge of vinegary death
much too proud to admit to the pain as the sled sped under the barbwire ripping away a layer of jeans and flesh so young then still believing one should be a stoic martyr showing no fear while coursing down the hill under the fence onto the frozen pond the cold numbing the wound and coagulating the blood thus concealing the extent of the injury from others retreating home as darkness fell in solitude tending to the wound knowing others will not see the scar nor need to know of the pain truly felt a lesson on how to handle life
beneath this city lie the bones of fallen warriors despised in life ignored in death their dreams no more than faded pages in history books childhood homes cannibalized into parks with exercise trails punished by overweight merchants slimming down before feasting at macdonalds tree roots embrace cradles of unborn children still in the womb savages saved by good christian soldiers just following orders words to be repeated every time men impose their will on others not knowing that they like all before them shall be placed in a common grave called earth
simple acts of death should not be ignored they provided the backbone of our society those nascent souls feed the fires of industry providing plutocrats with a safe golf course to play upon without such dying sacrifice men of class would be forced to pay taxes or at least to increase their security forces around mansions but given the steady diet of patriotism fed to the plebs within the mindless educational system and corporate media the ball boys have no fear of unemployment
i ever so carefully wrapped your memory in butcher’s paper and placed it in a brown paper bag which I gave to the drunkard on the corner of desperation and no hope street he seemed appreciative at first until he saw it was you so i gave him twenty dollars for the inconvenience that i had caused his expectations which resulted in a twenty-dollar ten-cent profit for him since you were recyclable
Poetry has the power to make us aware of what is hidden in the shadows...those places that we seldom see or want to see...the poet's voice scrapes away the facade of an issue and lays bare for all to see what has been denied. By providing a voice to these mute realities, poets have throughout history altered the course of events by enlightening readers and encouraging them to take action to stop wars,
halt injustice, and to reach out to their fellow man. Like those poets who have proceeded me, I am motivated
by the same desire to bring about the social changes necessary to enhance the quality of life for those
around me and around the world and to give voice to those who cannot speak for themselves.!