selective blindness…

outside post office
holding a sign and a child
no one reads the sign
no one even turns a head
nation refuses to see

 

crisis management plan …

 

always on thin ice
that’s how you wanted life to be
you wanted people
to see you as a strong and brave
your ghost stories told each day
daily ghost stories
shared with all of life’s passerbys
whispered in the night
to lovers and part-time friends
knowing always on thin ice

 

no reason to go beyond thought…

 

still
see your face
and
hear your laughter
as a child
but
years of lies
have
erased
those traces
of
memories
from your mind
so
no need to speak
nor
dream that truth
will ever be seen
it’s so strange
how
alibis
replace reality
and
life’s bar room liars
become
heroines

 

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