cost analysis…

an armada of ships
sail to the gulf coast
to assist with capping
an oil well
potential losses
in the billions
floods in pakistan
thousands dying
potential loss
insignificant
no real
worldwide
dollars
lost
nothing
but
human
lives

addiction…

Image from BBC News

a street drug
no
a medication
i do this because i have to
i was forced into this
by
my parents
my wife
my children
they all demanded
they all required
things of me
everyone expects that i
and i alone
serve their needs
so each day i
place the hose
begin the injections
like piercing society’s skin
and the energy flows
as quickly as blood
pumps in the body
it is not my fault
i am not to blame
please believe me
i am not to blame
i wash my hands of this
the oil on your shores
is not due
to my addiction
it was
their
fault

a lost song…

not one feather
ruffled or out of place
no visible signs of distress
all your colors still bright
as if resting from flight
beside the road
and for one moment
i thought you would fly
but you had lost your song
and so i wonder
my little friend
why you should be here
did your lover break your heart
so badly that it just stopped
were you poisoned
by the promises of friends
thus draining your life spirit
or did you hear the dying cries
of your brothers and sisters
of air and sea
struggling in the gulf
and your heart
just burst with sadness

I must replace my dream catcher…

while dreaming last night
i found myself swimming by the sea
in the warm waters of expectations
when the red ball appeared
so i pursued it
as i did in my youth
finding my body transformed
into a golden koi
struggling against the current
i saw the ball within my reach
but it dove beneath the waves
and i with no thought of tomorrow
followed it like a man possessed
lusting after its power
so willingly forfeiting my soul
in pursuit of this prize
but without warning
the sea became black
the blackness filled my lungs
each breath pierced them
like a razor’s edge
cutting deeper
and deeper
until i was the blackness
floating as a unified corpse
with others in the blackness
trapped in the tidal flow
consuming all in our path
bringing them into the darkness
grasping all that lived
and as we reached the shore
i awoke in a cold sweat
tears streaming down my face
for i knew the nightmare
had just
begun

the wood carver….

 

his hands bore the scars
of learning his trade
the thick calluses in his palms
were like the rings of a tree
sharing with those who chose to look
his years upon this earth
this piece beneath his blade
was now complete
a sea
where each wave
seemed to move
as eyes scanned the horizon
at a distance
one could see a small
yet distinct
fishing boat
bouncing with expectation
of a bountiful harvest
and sea gulls
cruising through the sky
one would swear
they saw the wings
move from time to time
so precise was his work
but do not look for this place
nor the life he portrayed
for now you will only find
the black death of oil
smeared upon the scene
erasing the history of this place
and
lives