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



these are not
my emotions
this anger
and fear
is older than
my years
upon this earth
it is the taste
of dried blood
and the dust
of those once
freed by death
to wander with
whatever winds
reach into soul
to reanimate
their words
so their sorrow
and stories
can be retold
these are not
my words
so expect
no apologies
of social sins
the dead
cannot make
such offerings
to the living
they can only
recall the sins
you’ve lived
the pain
you’ve bestowed

ground zero…


once again the streets
will become the battlegrounds
unabated greed
blinds rich from consequences
but shields no one from anger


following the march hare…

following the march hare

there’s no time to waste
days are short and hours few
anger has no place

anger has no place
at my tea party table
there’s no time to waste

there’s no time to waste
must be on my way i say
anger has no place