a celebratory funeral…

a celebratory funeral

shadows
of
yesterday
linger
above
the sunrise
rays
of 
light
reflect off
discarded
silver streamers
and
paper party favors
those
souvenirs
of
a dying year
and
the birth
of
unkeepable promises
a rather
pontius pilate moment
for
most merrymakers
cleansing
their hands
of
previous episodes
of
existence
now
offering up
for
crucifixion
a new
covenant
commitments
covering
a range
of
declared weaknesses
from
health
to
social justice
a contract
no doubt
when
viewed
this time
next year
must have been written
in
invisible ink

 

 

recurring remorse …

recurring remorse

night
comes
with
promises
of
sweet dreams
a
promise
often
not kept
instead
images
of
the day
replay
in
a continuous loop
cycling
between
madness
and
depression
forming
cold
body
sweats
dampening
the freshly
washed sheets
liquid fear
a fever
of
compromised morality
concerns
to
be
forgotten
with
morning rays
and
the daily anesthetic
for
survival
rush hour
dementia

scavengers of young souls..

scavengers of young souls

feeding below flesh
like soft-minded heartless worms
spewing cruel words without cause
said to a child with pure hate
because of race and birthplace
child adrift in hate’s whirlpool

 

 

once we were…

once we were...

the small space
between
his nightmares
and
his reality
has grown smaller
he no longer
stares out
his window
searching for
empty promises
to be fulfilled
nor
does he pray
anymore
he has grown
to realize
that whatever god
there may be
his lot in life
is not
a priority
for that god
or
any god
so why would he
expect
that his fellow man
would give a damn
to them
he’s
a homeless bum
not worthy
of
their consideration
for anything
just scrap paper
to be
swept away
before
morning rush-hour
but once
his hands
cleared the land
that fed them
then
they called him
an essential worker
till the land dried up
and
nothing could grow
the bank took his land
outstanding loans
the land still stands naked
hometown
a ghost town
and
he
a ghost
of
society

osmosis…

osmosis

death
has no memory
so
victims
become
murders
killing in the same way
as
their own martyrs
were
slaughtered
and
for 
the same reasons
oppression
to gain advantage
and
to rule others
someone
must
always
be underfoot
to
support
the weight
of
man’s madness

ecosystem stability….

ecosystem stability

hear we go again
heavy rains
of
concern
over
the middle east
and
africa
while winds
of
sanctions
are
diverted
by
a front
of
political denial
protecting
the state
of
israel
while
the downpour
of
missiles
created
a flood
of
funerals
in
the gaza strip
but
not too worry
the
un has promised
a
full analysis
of
death’s winds
so
rest assured
there’s
nothing going
to
be
done
but
you may experience
once again
a cold hail
of
emotional trauma
but
by now
you
should
be
climatized
to
that
as for
the forecast
more
of
the same patterns
of
social injustice
worldwide

go ahead and savor it…

game day

i hear children
though
i can’t see
their faces
and
wouldn’t
know their names
if
i could
but
i can hear
laughter
laughter
full of childish dreams
and
expressions
of
universal hope
but
there will be
no
fulfillment
for
these children
must die
the land
upon which
they stand
is
the contested
promised land
where
one
can find
great happiness
well
not these children
they’re
sort of in the way
of
other’s dreams
but
if you’d like
you could
enjoy their laughter
before
their screams

 

 

vessel…

these are not
my emotions
this anger
and fear
is older than
my years
upon this earth
it is the taste
of dried blood
and the dust
of those once
enslaved
freed by death
to wander with
whatever winds
reach into soul
to reanimate
their words
so their sorrow
and stories
can be retold
these are not
my words
so expect
no apologies
or
absolution
of social sins
the dead
cannot make
such offerings
to the living
they can only
recall the sins
you’ve lived
and
the pain
you’ve bestowed