justice

by

listen to the dirge of history….

we don’t need more talk
or pillage of our freedoms
we demand justice
no man is above the law
we shall close this nation down

 

by

don’t shoot the messenger…

lord
someone
needs to repent
i’m
not sure
who
but
given
how things
are
going
i’m
certain
you’re pissed off
about
something
now
i know
you’re divine
and
all knowing
and
such
but
could
i make
a small
suggestion
and
please don’t
put me
in the same
category
as
uzzah
but
since
none of us
have
touched
the ark
couldn’t
you just
strike down
those
who’ve
got their fingerprints
all
over
the golden pot

 

by

conflict…

Painting by Ever Fonseca Cervino

parole board meets
agrees
to release
a murderer
a second chance
at
life
for
good behavior
it’s been
twenty years
or more
since incarceration
no
second life
for
victim
no
resurrection
but
that’s
not the conflict
the president
politicos
and
corporate execs
who
are responsible
for
thousands of deaths
as
part of their
job
are
rewarded
for
increasing the profit margin
at
whatever human cost
they
are not
incarcerated
that’s
the conflict

 

by

knowing you’d be concerned…

 

child
if in the morning
you wake up
and
i’m death
don’t you
worry
your
pretty little head
i
slept
in
the other
guest bed
last night
letting
your
special
friend
sleep in mine
and
even let him
have
that milk
you
left
for me

 

by

in answer to your question…

how do i speak
of justice
that
grey fog
that lingers
along the coast
of life
though seen
from
the inland
it rarely
come this far
 ashore
here
only the smog
penetrates
the lungs
burning
with promises
never fulfilled
nor
intended to be
yet
the foot soldiers
of
innocence
march on
into battles
waving flags
that
mean
little
outside the confines
of
their
dream filled minds
they
like
old men
claiming
the wine
to taste
sweet
although
most know
it’s
as bitter
as
the vinegar
given to
christ
only
differing
by the innocent blood
that gives it
its color
blood
shed
by
seekers of justice
goose stepping
corporate marionettes
appropriately
dressed
for
their role
in
the world’s follies
performances
viewed
with sincere appreciate
by the elite
who would
applaud
but
such actions
would
highlight
the meaninglessness
of such deaths
so
they arrange
for a medal
or
two
as
intermittent reinforcement
but
all are given
a flag drapped coffin
a
consolation prize
a sort of
moral rubber ducky
to be
squeezed
during dark cold nights
provided
by
human greed
a replacement
for the sound
of a human heart
the heart
that was filled
with
love
the one
you used
to
hear