the grinding stone…

the grinding stone

western winds have subsided
death’s grinding stone lies idle
but as always hate’s winds will return
grinding racism will once again
turn innocent lives into funeral dust

combat episodes…

he’d seen
every
john wayne
movie
and
every
episode
of
cops
his
black
spit shined
boots
set off
his
neatly pressed
military
fatigues
and
sheriff’s badge
looking
totally
combat ready
carrying
the M4 carbine
slung
across
his chest
he was
well prepared
for
his starring
role
so with cameras
rolling
the team
burst
into
the family’s home
shattering
the wooden door
with
explosives
then
flash grenades
to
dramatize
their entry
finding
crying children
mother
naked
in bed
father
slammed
to
the floor
as
he tried to defend
those
he loved
then
shots fired
teenage son
in pool
of
innocent blood
dark like
his skin
radio interrupts
the production
filming
they’re
at
the wrong
address

herd immunity…

group resistant to
the rule of law and justice
because of their badge

 

random acts of violence…

simulated waves
of
empathy
wash over
the bodies
in
the street
bodies
wearing
corporate logo t-shirts
corpses
photographed
like
selfies
on
iphones
and
posted on facebook
for
likes
by
social mercenaries
dreaming

of
corporate sponsorship
while

police
with
city seal embossed
face masks
employ
non lethal rubber coated
lead bullets
into
the eyes
of
reporters
and
into
the skulls
of
vietnam vets
those
old men
on
their way
to fill prescriptions
for
heart meds
a
med
not need
for
those without
a
heart

 

the body…

soiled blackened flesh
sunken eyes emptied of hope
blood covered clothing
death’s rancid breath abided
as a nation lies in state

alex what did you expect…

law of anarchy
comes when national leaders
ignore human rights
and fabricate hateful rules
for their own personal gain

 

by the side of the road…

on the side of the road

like my
soul’s core
my shoes
have filled
with ice water
my
winter jacket
has been
confiscated
by
an officer of
the law
who
was certain
that
it would be used
as evidence
for a crime
i might commit
i am
to wait here
i’ve
been assured
by soothsayers
of
biblical text
that my ride
will
arrive
so
i should disregard
that others
are given rides
before me
even though
i was
here
first
but
if society expects
that i should
say
thank you
for
this opportunity
to suffer
then
it is indeed
a cold day
in hell

best not to open that gate…

copyright cwmartin 2011

as kids
we were always
afraid of the old man
living in the corner house
the wood siding
on that place
was as dry
and gray
as he was
with just as many furrows
in its skin
the old man
had
one eye
frosted
with somthing white
while the other blue one
went its own way
when he stared
but no one was sure
what he was looking at
since no one
was sure
which eye was
looking where
all i knew
was
aunt bee said
that old man
knows things
he’s done seen
heaven n’ hell
saw his brother hanging
from an indiana tree
and watched
as his parents
buried a son
who fought for freedom
yes
that old man
knows things
when the police
drive by his home
they always look
the other way
some say
he saw them
take sister maybel
into the swamp
and come out alone
yes
that old man
knows things
i’ve noticed
him rocking and crying
on his front porch
wearing black
just before someone dies
yes
i do believe
that old man
knows things
most days
he walks around
with a cane
like he’s going
to part the red sea
and now and then
he raises it
as if controlling
all of nature
i tell you
that old man
knows things
things
you
know
but are
afraid
to see