a little cat n’ mouse…

 

now
the cat
being a political being
never
rushes into a fight
no
it just paws
at its prey
toying
with
the household citizens
before
the financial kill
not that it’s
hungry
or any thing
just
loves
to play
with the power
of
the position

 

war remnants…

his matted graying dreadlocks
stream from his pitted memories of war
flowing over shoulders once adorned
with stars and stripes
now hosting only the ghost of yesterday’s meal
served by some holy roller kitchen
where would-be-saints
dish out equal servings of pious gruel
with side dishes of soul cooking
trying to save a soul
that has long vacated the premises
evicted by the good citizens of oz
for failing to whistle a happy tune
while scavenging the streets for dignity
or just some remnant of self