nyctophobia…

count
the heartbeats
passing
before you
as if
each
beat
is the sound
of
their footsteps
feel
their pulse
in
the blinks
of
their eyes
the
flow of their existence
in
their facial
postures
and
their demise
in
the silence
of
night
that darkness
where
you’re
unable
to
sleep
for
fear
of
your own death
now i lay me
down
to sleep

 

autumn patriots…

roadside
improvised
explosive
political devices
nothing more
than
home-made mercenaries
pretending
to
believe
in freedom
but
failing to understands
its
most basic principles
shedding
their white sheets
in order
to
change
their attire
into
that
of
those
they disgrace
true patriots
who died
for
freedom
those
the president
called
suckers
and
fools
whose
sacred ground
of
liberty
swine
now stand on
holding
weapons of war
like
ss goon squads
set on
purifying
the nation
a nation
to
which
they
have no true
alliance
rather
an alliance
to
ignorance
and
hate

 

 

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

 

 

barabbas …

murderous traitor
count the dead in this nation
how can anyone
that claims that there is a god
crucify the innocent
instead of the beast
do they long to bathe in blood
that of our children
or of those too poor to beg
for their god’s mercy
are silver coins of greed’s realm
worth denying sacred words
will the holy bed
be soiled with the putrid
lies of one man’s lust
or will the faithful remove
each bloody nail from faith’s hands

 

departure…

canopy
conceals
the stars and moon
darkness
shrouds the source
of
sounds
in
a veil
of
fear
sounds
come from
all
directions
none louder
than
the boy’s
pounding heart
as
shallow breaths
join
the chorus
of
fear
suddenly
strong scents
fill
his nostrils
it’s like
an approaching death
pulse
quickens
he
lowers his body
to
the ground
becoming one
with
the earth
then
a torch
is lite
he is encircled
by
his elders
bapa dola
speaks
saying
each hunter
must have empathy
for
their prey
the taking
of
life
for survival
means
the end
of
survival
for
another
so
should be done
with
respect
and
understanding
of
the prey’s fear
a fire
was lit
and
the elders
brought forth
nature’s offerings
for
a boy
was now
a man

 

arson…

blazes
intentionally set
to
deprive
others
of
what they have
paid
for
with
sacrifices
of
blood
and
flesh
the hard labors
of
a lifetime
turned
into
smoldering
remnants
of
freedom
and
charred dreams
of
a better nation
a nation
which
could evolve
into
it’s
own
myth
were it
not
for
political arsonists
setting fires
and
then
offering
to put them out
for
the mere price
of
your soul
a so called
deal
of
the century

 

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

 

the machine…

no fancy
neural networking
to
adjust
to
environmental factors
nor
predictive subroutines
for
addressing
possible outcomes
of
actions taken
though
its
intelligence
is
artificial
its exterior structure
has
no sensors
so
feedback loops
are deemed
unnecessary
it is
a self perpetuating device
abstracting
resources
either by
the destruction
of
environmental elements
including
animate
and
inanimate objects
or
depleting resources
acquired
by
others
like single cell organisms
its sole
function
is to survive
for
it is
the political machine
of
the republican demigods

 

clinging to existence …

he
was
curled
into
a ball
lying
at
the feet
of
death
crying out
for
a god
he
didn’t believe in
nor
had considered
until
his lungs
would not fill
with air
and
a drowning feeling
firmly grasped
his body
submerged
in despair
he recalled
when breathing
was
so
simple
no thinking
required
but now
each
breath
struggled
to
lift
the weight
of
death
from
his chest
no
moments
of
life passing
before
his eyes
just
a pounding heart
sweat
without
sweating
the anxiety
of
death
and
empty promises
of
tomorrow
then
suddenly
it
was
over

 

an honest mistake…

presidential press drone
explains
the fat guy
thought
portland
was
in afghanistan
his mercenaries
were
well trained
for
murder
but not
for
reasonable reactions
to
unarmed citizens
citizens
doing what
our
forefathers
did
when
they were faced
with
the tyranny
of
an imperial regime