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

 

those above the law…

you’re vinegar drops
on the crucifix of time
our blood warmed your feet
but shed blood turns to lava
and so our fate will be yours

 

500 brigades to their death…

it was
to my understanding
hand-to-hand combat
though
there were
supporting efforts
the fights
were
on an individual basis
as such
no memorial has been planned
yet
these
hundred thousand souls
should not be
forgotten
for
when a soul
battles for life
the battle
is for all life
all those
that soul touched
or
would have touched
have
also suffered
death
some will know
to mourn
others
will only feel a sense
of
emptiness
not knowing

why
nor
could it be explained
if they knew
it was
the death
of
a soul not met
that created this void
in their life
for how does one explain
the death
of
so many
to satisfy
the insane aspirations
of
one man

 

tomb raiders…

like locusts
that
devour every living thing
grave robbers
have set upon
the land
they’ve come
in waves
the first
were
those
just seeking
the finest treasures
all the while
spray painting graffitii
to cover up
all the sacred symbols
the second wave
was comprised
of
magistrates
ministers of the law
seeking
personal glorification
by
possessing
those things that would
extend their power
in the eyes
of
others
the last wave
were common men
tearing
through the tomb
seeking
scraps
whatever
tossed aside
by
those
whose actions
had taken
justice
and
freedom
from
the nation

 

replicas…

wrapped in a comforter
of
memories
lying
in bed
head buried
in
pillows
of
what could have been
day passes
into
tomorrow’s night
when
nothing changes
outside
the world
ignores
all human tragedy
as if
watching
an old rerun
and
perhaps
that is the case
history
repeating
don quixotes
we all

 

more acts of treason…

several
graves
hold
the souls
of
your
sons
and
daughters
war
executions
paid for
by
the president’s
friend
it has been
said
one
should be
judged
by
the company
you
keep

misinformation…

from broken windows
fear’s eyes peer into the night
seeing what’s not there
for ghost stories have been told
by those who thrive upon lies

 

the gnat’s complaint…

these webs
are
so unjust
flies
always die
staring
into
my eyes
with
the most
incriminating looks
as if
i
were the one
who spun
this web
but
i
and
those generations
before me
have been
trapped
within
these fibers
of
lies and promises
for
centuries
had i
been born
with
more mass
i
would have flown
right through
this
social web
no more
inconvenienced
than
needing
a quick shower
afterwards
but
that is not the case
i
linger here
as
a bit of amusement
and
as
a morsel
for
a boring day
a systemic slave
the quintessential
essential worker
to be
devoured
or
left
to
just
decay
and
die