smoke

by

lone wolf’s lament…

this is not the place
that was your father’s
these woods hold
bones older than
your history
each tree marks
a fallen warrior
black elk knew of them
calling upon the spirits
to receive their brothers
and sisters in death
to guide them safely
to a land of peace
not one of war
nor into stolen mountains
flowing with streams of tears
nor torched prairie villages
now no more than smoke
carried away in the night
only brother wolf
was left
to lament
as the funeral
procession
passed by
to an unwanted
desert
away from
this sacred
and
holy
place

by

abdulrahman’s revelations…

This poem is based upon a post from my friend Mirella ( http://mirellamccracken.wordpress.com/).

 

he lie
on the floor
a caged fallen angel
his crime
quite simply
refusal to deny hope
but that was cause enough
for the smoke of unreason
to rise from the depths of the earth
and they were as locusts upon him
grinding away at his soul
beating his dreams from his backside
breaking the legs of his resistance
leaving him as  a prayer rug on the floor
to be tread upon
as if humanity’s grand mosque
were not also a place of prayer
so
no longer
do they have the seal of god
in their forehead
it has long been removed
so in their last days
the locusts shall come
with the scorpion’s sting
they will be tormented
but not killed
they will not find death
but they
shall
seek it
but death
shall flee from them
and they
shall know
his pain

by

resurrection…


in the summer
after the sun has been turned off
the old people like roaches
seep out of the smoke covered bricks of their apartments
and pause upon the metal escape routes
shaped like the bars of a prison
and stare upon the street below
as if they could see a model-t