history repeats….

spirits make
another
silent march
pass
the living
whispering
warnings
as they stare
into
empty eyes
eyes
that cannot see
the dangers
of
hate
and
greed
or
how denial
of
inhumanity
turns the earth
into
graves
graves for
children
graves for
the poor
graves for
the weak
graves for
those
different
and soon
graves
for
the blind
who will then
join
the march
with closed eyes
that
see

 

2020 reconnaissance…

empty champagne bottles
in
the bin
new beginnings
for
some
for
others
the nightmares
continue
during
evening festivities
few
found
the
fireworks
frightening
except
for
that
old man
under the highway bridge
who
always wears
worn
army fatigues
when
the sky
roared
last night
he
scurried
into
the soggy culvert
at
the base
of the hill
dragging
his sleeping bag
as if
it were
the body
of
a wounded comrade
a comrade
he
refused to leave
to
die alone
in
the morning
as
i drove home
from
the party
i
saw him again
covered in mud
carefully
surveying the terrain
before
repositioning himself
and
friend
beneath
the bridge
to
continue
life’s
battle

 

underneath the christmas lights…

narrowing ally
burnt out lights hide the way out
death’s smell fills the air
hopes for christmas day are lost
with the cries of incoming

 

twas the life before christmas…

wrapped
in
such bright foil
and
moving
you might wonder
whose
christmas gifts
these
are
shall i tell you
these
are
for
despair
small
government orphaned
children
nestled
all snug
in
their
thermal blankets
on
cold
border floors
while visions
of
their parents
dance
in
their heads
as
they face
another day
of
dread