pay-for-slay…

 

the brown bag prophet
was holding up
a sign
that said
let’s do pay-for-slay too
and yes
once again
i was compelled
to
inquire
why
the prophet said
well
we give billions
to
israel
and
other countries
so
if we really want
the killing
to
stop
we’ll deduct
from
those funds
for
each
innocent life
taken
of course
given
the number of deaths
already this year
some countries
will owe
us
money

 

cross-examination…

 

the chalice was filled
with the warm blood of children
during morning prayers
for they were non-believers
non-believers in your god
your god’s the true one
but does your god fear children
are not divine words
enough to sway young minds or
are you the non-believer

 

the moth hole…

 

a small
irregular hole
in
the pocket
of
an old cardigan
five neat buttons
adorn
the front
buttons
handled
by
two generations
of
doctors
in this village
so
such a small hole
would be expected
after
almost
two lifetimes
but
not the one
in the back
the one
left by
a government soldier’s
bullet

 

having found a dead bird on my stoop….

 

i fully understand
life’s
hardships
and
survival rules
but
cannot understand
how
or
why
one would
want to encourage
the deaths
of
others
are
people
so
naive
as
to
believe
that
their fate
is
not linked
to
the victims
of
their crimes
of
desire
can they not see
that
this body
of
existence
is
comprised
of
different parts
but
still
a part
of the whole
if one slits
a wrist
death
in
emanate
to
all parts
even
if it was
the right hand
that
offended
the left
all parts
once cut
bleed
the blood
from
the whole
and
though
death may be
slow
death
will soon arrive
to
all
parts

 

president’s compromise…

 

a new flood
of
hatred
hatred
that has washed
over
our nation
and
our world
it
has left
in its wake
an unrecognizable
wasteland
where
the bloated corpse
of
the great experiment
in
freedom
has been dashed
against
the rocks
of
ignorance
pushed there
by
a current
of
data points
from
political
consulting firms

 

requiems in the sand…

 

i’ve started writing
my new poems on the beach
words briefly exist
like the lives of those they speak
voiceless souls trapped in man’s games