no fault of their own…

life leaves battle scars
soul’s deep emotional wounds
that transcend rational thought
symptoms are hate and anger
pressed upon the innocent



left out in the cold
your senator basks in sun
while he plays you pay
i’m betting he would have been
first to flee the alamo

makeshift morgue…

though finely crafted
this chamber reeks of death’s stench
that of a nation
assassinated for greed
and political power

democracy’s tide…

take as fair warning
although the tide’s in right now
rocks remain below
perils for the ship of state
awaiting one more low tide


dooming moral choice…

simple to ignore
the faces and lives destroyed
when your eyes are closed
if you ask for forgiveness
you’ll find that our ears are closed