war remnants…

his matted graying dreadlocks
stream from his pitted memories of war
flowing over shoulders once adorned
with stars and stripes
now hosting only the ghost of yesterday’s meal
served by some holy roller kitchen
where would-be-saints
dish out equal servings of pious gruel
with side dishes of soul cooking
trying to save a soul
that has long vacated the premises
evicted by the good citizens of oz
for failing to whistle a happy tune
while scavenging the streets for dignity
or just some remnant of self

who shall stare last…

a dark sweaty form
staring into the desert sun
from behind an oasis blind
stars and stripes
on his shoulder
symbol of freedom
waiting
fearing
killing
       burst of light
penetrating metal
       third of an ounces 
       less than 2.3 seconds
and
       another symbol of freedom
is stared at
by the desert
in life’s
only
true
freedom