an incomplete life…

the empty spaces
wedged between your dreams are fears
forced in by others

 

go ahead and drink the kool-aid…

©2019 Charles Wm Martin

you sing
hallelujah
from
oaken pews
each
sunday
joining
the choir’s
exaltations
to
the endless void
of
death
never questioning
the promise
of
mercy
for
all sins
but
what of those
of
omission
children
left homeless
and
affection starved
victims
of
war
and
political egos
stripped naked
of
humanity
left
without
the shroud
of
dignity
and
in your chosen blindness
you pray
for
souls
that you shun
each day
of
the week
crossing streets
to
avoid
exposing your sins
those
crosses
you chose
not
to bear

 

no expedient allegiance with faith…

knees sore from praying
thumbing for a new passage
for understanding
compromising with evil
but not one can be found

 

spotting resilience…

morning routines
briefly
suspended
fragments
of the bomb
ripped away
the thin shell
of
normalcy
around
the market stalls
crews
quickly moved
to
clear
what
hate
had left
in its wake
after
the sirens
and
screams
came
moans of grief
then
the call to prayer
with
its unified moans
of
thanks
to allah
and
throughout
it all
the fly catchers
of
baghdad
had continued
to soar
seeking
food
for
their young

graffitied…

i was sharing
some photos
of
brazil
with
the brown bag prophet
i
expressed
my
bewilderment
that
even
churches
had been tagged
with
graffiti
i showed
him
pictures
of
rio
the prophet
said
that’s
merely
a civilized way
of
dissenting
when
i questioned
the
civility
of such actions
the prophet
noted
that
in our country
as well as
others
people
and
structures
are
violently
destroyed
for
their
religious
affiliation
he then asked
anything
you
wanna tag

 

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

 

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

 

the box…

 

carefully crafted
a perfect shape
each panel
polished
to perfection
reflecting all shades
of light
equally
so
nothing
can penetrate it
nor
alter
its core
with
such
purity
one would
assume
its contents
would serve
the greater good
but like
all
pure self-righteous hearts
it serves
only
itself