field hospital…

poetry session with accidental tourists

a child’s eyes
move
in random patterns
searching
with breath held
as walls
are pierced
with
the bones
of doves
this was
to be
a safe place
where those
who cared
not
for war
or
causes
that leave
small children
orphaned
could find
some
brief
moment
of peace
to have
their wounds
bandaged
and
healed
before
they buried
those they loved
but
war
so easily blinds
mortal eyes
to
crimes
hidden
behind a veil
of
justifiable

posca…

Modified Justice Statue Iran: From Wikimedia Commons

Modified Justice Statue Iran:
From Wikimedia Commons

empty pages
embossed
with
invisible ink
pages
that
blisters
when
hate’s heat
of
reality
is applied
and
another mother’s son
lies bleeding
along
a city street
warm blood
fuels
the fires
so
the words
no justice
appears
upon
the page

salt-cured fish-eggs…

salt-cured-fish-eggs

will you bury
your
dead dreams
beside
promises failed
will
the grave stone
proclaim
your innocence
how
you
were
forced to
participate
in
pagan commercial behaviors
against
your
will
consuming
more
than
your fair share
while
others begged
for
morsels
of
charity
and
respect
leaving
you
to
complain
about
wine
improperly chilled
indeed
there
is
undue
coldest
here

converting dreams to numbers…

converting-dreams-to-numbers

i’ve seen
this all before
it’s a revolving door
of
emotions
and
reverberating behaviors
that
echo
from yesterday’s cliffs
into
the valleys
of
today
yet
you
stay
expecting
to hear
something
new
but
this
soap opera script
hasn’t been
rewritten
nor
thought out
it’s all
a sad formula
for
life
transcribed by
some
alchemist
wishing to convert
life’s lead
into
gold
but
you
still
hold tight
to your
dream book
expecting
the right numbers
to
appear