outsourcing…

sunken eyes
blackened with fear
flesh
stretched tight
over
a fractured skeleton
a framework of despair
too weakened to move

or
swish away flies
flies
on
unattended sores
festering wounds
of
war
war for
computer chips
or
more precisely
the resources needed
to
manufacture chips
precious semiconductors
necessary
for

calling out
for
pizza
or
chatting
with
unknown friends
who’ve
been befriended
but
not one call
to
this child

 

 

garland of freshly cut tears…

placed upon the street
love’s silent testimony
dried salty white wreath
left by a grieving mother
oblation to freedom’s god

 

dr. pangloss unavailable…

request for light verse
the kind that warms every heart
maybe about joy
children playing with new toys
nothing about their war zone

 

less than strangers…

every thing they said
has come to lies’ fulfillment
you do not recall
an old wagon ride
round and round all those summers
nor do you recall
whose hands and voice embraced you
some how ghosts stories
have replaced the real events
a black hologram of truth
i understand why
the truth is hard to live with
those crimes of passion
have altered life’s history
and the fools always believe

 

go ahead and drink the kool-aid…

©2019 Charles Wm Martin

you sing
hallelujah
from
oaken pews
each
sunday
joining
the choir’s
exaltations
to
the endless void
of
death
never questioning
the promise
of
mercy
for
all sins
but
what of those
of
omission
children
left homeless
and
affection starved
victims
of
war
and
political egos
stripped naked
of
humanity
left
without
the shroud
of
dignity
and
in your chosen blindness
you pray
for
souls
that you shun
each day
of
the week
crossing streets
to
avoid
exposing your sins
those
crosses
you chose
not
to bear

 

sleepless lambs…

caged lambs
wool soaked
with urine
from
the holding pens
shivering
frightened
grasping
for
one breath
of
the promised
freedom
from
oppression
not
this
slaughter house
of
innocent souls
but
now
it’s
lights out
at
the border
detention center

 

reopening america’s schools…

small
and
insignificant child
you
will be
canonized
some day
as
you
and
your peers
those
unwitting martyrs
to
the cause
of
the global economy
go back
to
school
so
your
parents
can
go back
to work
your deaths
will be
for
the greater good
of
the profit margin
and
the president’s
re-election campaign
as well as

bolstering
his
ego

 

american greatness…

so
this
is what
makes
america
great
the herding
of
immigrant children
into
cages
along its borders
the confining
of
its elders
so
death
will whisk away
its
economic woes
its knee
of
fascism
firmly
on
the neck
of
the free press
its
systemic
oppression
and
murder
of
its poor
and
all
outside
its elite class
of
white
a class
that has
a class
within
a class
male
and
female
its dominators
and
dominated
all the while
its
leader
hides
away in a bunker
like

hitler
as the war
for
freedom
rages outside
oh
such greatness
is hard
to
fully
imagine
but
it would appear
it has been
achieved

 

covid-19 infant death…

tonight a child died
parents won’t be discussing
your boring lockdown
they will plan a funeral
and pray to an unseen god

 

this memorial day…

take time
to
look
into
the eyes
of
the dead
see
the person
the
father
mother
grandparent
and
child
who died
for
the political ego
of
a madman
you
needn’t
look
far
the bodies
are
all around you
in
refrigerated trucks
or
lying
in
basement
or
makeshift morgues
but
you may
need
to
pry
the eyes
open