four shredded sheets…

four shreddded pages

nothing
left
of
the dream
cracks
in the rampart
have
let
truth’s darkness
overwhelm
the dim light
of
national myths
now
the broken 
sharp
edges
of
reality
protrude
into
each day
severing hope
from
well-tutored
promises

 

 

unacceptable…

unacceptable

your condemnation
of
murdering
civilians
doesn’t quite make it
since
graves are
already
dug
and souls 
are
as cold
as death
you
seem to believe
words
speak louder
than
actions
so
here’s the problem
words
ain’t no
bullet proof vest
just your
moral placebo

 

 

eulogies…

eulogies

words
offered
before
burials
or
the hearts
have
stopped
beating
words
on
any
other occasions
might
have raised
the dead
like
the widow’s son
at
nain
but
these words
with
angelic tones
are
political sound bites 
that
echo
through polished
marble hallways
hallways
that are
the only
grave markers
and
eulogies
these homeless
will
ever have
such
concerned words
just
dry leaves
crushed
beneath
the feet of inhumanity
dust
without life
or
life giving
mere moments
of
fleeting guilt
insincere regrets
for
inaction
offered
before the graves
are
dug
or
the bodies
are
even cold

life’s night in america…

life's night in america

walk life’s forest floor
and you will see human fear
darkness surrounds all
even one’s breath’s shrouded in
survival’s desperation

 

 

devil’s gut…

devil's gut

once
a vibrant nation
now
a host
for
aggressive
parasitic personas
that
devour
the
salutary substance
of
freedom
creeping
and
strangling
until
freedom’s
death
leaving
hollow
promises
for
our children

 

 

recurring remorse …

recurring remorse

night
comes
with
promises
of
sweet dreams
a
promise
often
not kept
instead
images
of
the day
replay
in
a continuous loop
cycling
between
madness
and
depression
forming
cold
body
sweats
dampening
the freshly
washed sheets
liquid fear
a fever
of
compromised morality
concerns
to
be
forgotten
with
morning rays
and
the daily anesthetic
for
survival
rush hour
dementia