another laundry day…

child
ain’t nobody
gonna
wash
your laundry
those stains

have been
on
your bed sheets
for
years
and
as much as
you’d like
they
ain’t
no
turin shroud
looks
more to me
like
the face
of
a dying nation
outlined
in the blood
of
its
fringe
citizens
but
you do as you wish
add
some more
bleach
to
make it
as
white
as
snow
just like
you’ve done
everytime
that stain
for
freedom
reappears

 

training camp…

digital decoupage cwmartin 2011

he watched
as the soldiers
destroyed his home
dragging his father
into the street
beating him
ripping the clothes
off his mother
kicking her
repeatedly
he watched
he watched
very
carefully
without
a single
tear

ethic war drums…

and again
the night is violated
with the sounds
of metal on bones
and the hushing of a mother
to a child
and again
a child’s tears
are used to wash
the fabric of hate
soaked with the blood
of intolerance
and again
the streets are red
and full of vomit
of political rhetoric
casting flames of death
upon another land
and again
a child’s blood is drank
from the unholy grail
of self-righteousness
by the light of a human bonfire
with devilish
merriment
and again
faceless images
fade into the night
trampling small bodies
and looting all dignity
from the shallow graves
of a nation’s respect
and again
and again
without
end