sadness

by

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

 

by

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

 

by

inveterate…

has the world
changed
or
just
our
awareness
of
the world
the wounds
have always been there
some folks
just needed
a bit
of
salt
to feel them

 

by

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

 

by

sympathizers…

each took
a turn
to pound
the nails
into
the hands
and
feet
none chose
to
voice concern
for
their part
in this foul deed
since
each
blooded hand
obtained
personal gain
and
fame
for the crucifixion
of
the nation

 

by

when in interlude of darkness..

if
you
feel like
you’re crawling
through
mud
with
rancid water
soaking
your clothes
and
the weight
of
progress poverty
pressing
you further
into
the mire
of
inequity
you must
still
continue
the fight
for
social justice
but
each time
you grow weary
focus
on what you do have
those
loving hands
that
reach out for you
those
words
of kindness
and
appreciation
for
all you’ve done
and
those tearful eyes
that
look to you
for
what
you will
do

 

by

from the window an old pokey pickup truck…

i’ve spent
quite a few
sleepless nights
during
this
quarantine period
trying
to
measure aspects
of
my life
and
wondering
how others
could have
just
now
begun
to
appreciate
the struggles confronting
those
all around them
since
aunt bea
has lived
through
so much
i thought
i’d give her
call
and
asked
her opinion
aunt bea
said
the pace
of
our daily routines
blurs
our views
of
of life’s journey
keeping
what we’ve seen
or
what
we could have seen
out of focus
perhaps
the pandemic has
forced us
to
slow down
and
see
what’s been
right
in front of us
the whole time
we just
needed
to slow down
a bit
to feel
the pain
of
others

 

by

self-quarantine…

i’ve begun to think
should have done this years ago
could have avoided
the imposed sins of my skin
and act like slavery’s gone

 

by

random acts of violence…

simulated waves
of
empathy
wash over
the bodies
in
the street
bodies
wearing
corporate logo t-shirts
corpses
photographed
like
selfies
on
iphones
and
posted on facebook
for
likes
by
social mercenaries
dreaming
of
corporate sponsorship
while
police
with
city seal embossed
face masks
employ
non lethal rubber coated
lead bullets
into
the eyes
of
reporters
and
into
the skulls
of
vietnam vets
those
old men
on
their way
to fill prescriptions
for
heart meds
a
med
not need
for
those without
a
heart