outsourcing…

sunken eyes
blackened with fear
flesh
stretched tight
over
a fractured skeleton
a framework of despair
too weakened to move

or
swish away flies
flies
on
unattended sores
festering wounds
of
war
war for
computer chips
or
more precisely
the resources needed
to
manufacture chips
precious semiconductors
necessary
for

calling out
for
pizza
or
chatting
with
unknown friends
who’ve
been befriended
but
not one call
to
this child

 

 

dr. pangloss unavailable…

request for light verse
the kind that warms every heart
maybe about joy
children playing with new toys
nothing about their war zone

 

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

 

american greatness…

so
this
is what
makes
america
great
the herding
of
immigrant children
into
cages
along its borders
the confining
of
its elders
so
death
will whisk away
its
economic woes
its knee
of
fascism
firmly
on
the neck
of
the free press
its
systemic
oppression
and
murder
of
its poor
and
all
outside
its elite class
of
white
a class
that has
a class
within
a class
male
and
female
its dominators
and
dominated
all the while
its
leader
hides
away in a bunker
like

hitler
as the war
for
freedom
rages outside
oh
such greatness
is hard
to
fully
imagine
but
it would appear
it has been
achieved

 

the book of dying 1:4…

but men chastised claiming their righteousness
war was good bringing all peace
filling the markets so none starved
what’s done is good for all

the book of dying 1:3…

as children died women cried out
these are children born from us
god charged us protect each one
but your greed sears their flesh

 

 

 

 

 

 

the book of dying 1:2…

children died first with death’s arrival
ignored by men who fought wars
wars for gold measure of status
a world status nothing but vapor

 

refugee’s journey to freedom…

he said
death ain’t
that
bad
but
dying was
quite
complicated
found myself
and
family
in one of those
no man lands
between
two nations
we had left horror
only
to find
that
horror
had followed
our footsteps
winter’s frigid hands
took
our first child
while
the second died
of
that new virus
well
that’s what we
suspected
since
no one
was testing
nor
for that matter
considering us
suppose
it didn’t help
that she
hadn’t eaten
much that last week
my wife
the elders said
died
of a broken heart
such things
are hard to prove
but
having such losses
and
being seen
as
subhuman
may add
some validity
to
their belief
as for me
i drowned
crossing the border
my body
was swept
out to sea
no need
for a burial
in
another
unmarked grave
so you see
being dead
ain’t
all that bad
but
dying
well
that was
complicated