the hole…

copyright cwmartin 2012

it started
quite small
barely noticeable
and
more
as an imprint
from a hiking
or
military boot
than a hole
but
its continual growth
has begun
to worry
a few people
someone
perhaps a child
noticed
every time a life
was needlessly sacrificed
in war
for greed
or
personal gain
the hole seemed
to expand
if this
continues
we won’t have
a country
or
a world

the watchmen waketh…

 

beneath the earth
the army of the dead
move in unison
to the rolling pitch
of the underground train
marching to the surface
passing the roach infested
dark alleys of shadow people
the ones who beg for alms
as the hollow souls scurry past
the army must stay its course
headed for their burial abodes
crypts of glass and polished steel
for they have bartered their souls
for transient wealth and fame
a bloodless coup of a nation
where only pleasures of the flesh
are considered worthy
but at night
curtains drawn
flickering news stories
of the anger
of those who sought alms
makes every shadow
move independently
on the walls
a creeping fear
that makes even
the dead
turn
in their
graves 

 

This poem represents my final response to  the third challenge series between Jade and I.  This challenge is somewhat different in that the prompt is now an audio prompt.  Each poet provides the other with five instrumental songs (so that the song’s words do not interefere with the poet’s) from which the poet is to write a poem.  Jade has written her first response which can be found here

alice in political land…

Image from devilgraphics.com/Alice In Wonderland Graphic

so here it is
there was this bunny
he went down a hole
and this chick
follows
but falls hard
like during an election
so next thing
there’s this party
tea party
and everybody’s
hanging out
with the mad hatter
and talking
al’ bunch of stupid stuff
and the chick chimes in
like you know
drill baby
or something like that
and then
the rabbit hole starts
throbbing oil
like an artery’s been cut
or like that something
and the people
get a sudden
case of alzheimer’s
alzheimer’s
you know when someone
says i’ll call you tomorrow
and moves out of town instead
anyways they
start yelling
off with his head
off with his head
like the dude’s christ or something
an’ wha’
what
the moral of the story
well here it is
expectation will put your ass
in a sling faster than a speeding bullet

weekend…

a faceless crowd of people
moving here and there
without voice in slow motion
as if lost or confused about their destination
and i stare through my window at passing cars
wondering when i will see
the one face that gives voice to my day