predawn meditation #1…

predawn meditation_1

three am
and
i’m
contemplating life
that old
woulda’
shoulda’
coulda’
and
then
my thoughts 
turned to
the world
i live in
right now
what if
there were
no religions
no rationale
for
defending
some man-made doctrine
of
righteousness
and
who is righteous
no
umbrella of excuses
for
murdering
another human being
would we be
any more inhumane
than
we are now

 

 

insufficient for purpose…

insufficient for purpose

ain’t got
no fancy
iambic pentameter
to wrap around
my words
nor
sweet rhythms
to conceal
the crimes
of our time
no metaphors
for the sounds
of bullets
ripping
the flesh
of children
huddled with fear
in their classrooms
can’t find
an anonomatopoeia way
to say
the gun lobby
is french kissing
dollars
into the mouths
of senators
so they’ll
turn a blind eye
to the streets and classrooms
flowing
with innocent blood
but they ain’t
the only ones
refusing to see
that racism
defines this nation
and perhaps
the entire white world
for tears are shed
when ukrainian children die
but not even a sigh
is heard
when children starve
to death
in africa and bangladesh
or
children are struck down
by an israeli drone
there’s no fixed meter
that can convey
the absolute sadness
of parents
with their child’s death
no poet can ever
capture the emotions
for such an event
we merely stutter
our thoughts in words
onto the page
hoping to express
our personal rage
at the inhumanity
of mankind

i don’t care…

terrorist state

whether it be
in the streets
of
la
chicago
kiev
odessa
east jerusalem
nay pyi taw
hotan
or
hong kong
the common crime
is
premeditated murder

obesity…

fitness_center

broken instruments
of
existence
promises
of
peace
and
equality
all
i see
is
a hole
in
the wall
that’s been there
for
years
nothing’s changed
the
murdered souls
never are
given
justice
oh
there’s
always
a flurry of words
rebranded promises
wheeled out
for
the occasion
whether it be
a murdered journalist
or
some child waif
at
the border
whose
death
was
as premeditated
as
most social crimes
crimes
where lives
are
placed
into a penny slot machine
of
foreign
and
corporate diplomacy
always
a simple routine
where
negotiators
put the pennies in
pull down
the handle
of
greed
and
wait to see
if there’s
a payoff
for
those
already
overweight
with
wealth

change what needs to be changed…

change what needs to be changed

a simple question
given all the wars on earth
how do we decide
whose freedom we should defend
sovereignty of a nation
or financial benefit
does the formula
include variables of race
or religious creed
are atrocities factors
number of unborn children
murdered in their mother’s womb
whatever is used
seems rather ineffective
given all the deaths
or perhaps no one’s listening
unable to hear beneath
the rubble of self-interest

where were you when the lights went off…

where were you when the lights went out

save your platitudes
there’ll be no raising the dead
from hope’s shallow grave
your words are dead dry flowers
on humanity’s warm blood
something to make you feel good
your words cannot heal
bloodied wounds of human flesh
nor suture the souls
ripped apart by promises
to support democracy
but bookkeepers rule the roost
so as often said
save your breath for future lies
reach into your purse
and place some copper pennies
on the eyes of all those who
trusted in your empty words

the smell…

the smell...

i’m not sure
why i didn’t notice
it before
perhaps
the window
was partially opened
and
i must
have been closer
to
the window
so
the stench
went
unnoticed
but
i’ve heard
others
speak
of
it
but
i was certain
for awhile
that
they were
quite
mistaken
but
now
the smell
is
totally
oppressive
putrid smells
of
a slaughterhouse
bends
my body
to
the ground
as
i retched
when
i realize
that
in
the darkness
of
these
last few years
it was
the smell
of
the rotting corpse
of
freedom

madmen and mortals…

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

such a fragile shell
that holds
this thing
called
life
with
the center
as
the soul
how
easily
life shatters
with
the slightest
force
so
it is surprising
how
man
willingly
discards
his most
precious gift
from
the gods
forfeiting
existence
for
the void of vanity
or
the illusion
of
allegiance
some merchants
will
without hesitation
sell the souls
of
others
no matter
the duration
of
their existence
young or old
matters not
as long as
there’s a profit
to be made
traffickers
of inhumanity
tossing aside
the broken lives
as if chaff
in the wind
so it is
that
so many
lives end
some
even before
they’ve begun
for
madmen
rarely see beyond
themselves