poetry

Those of us restricted
By the weight of responsibility
Beat our lotus words
Against the nape of god
Begging him to listen
What will it take
How many murders
Of how many children
Must the M-16s come marching
Through Your gates
Through church doors
And temples
Laying mothers
Infants
Innocents to waste along the way
But You have not heard them still
Blood at Your altars
Blood everywhere
And You have not said a single word
Can we pray then
For others to listen–

The Dead
do not require our silence to be honored
do not require our silence to be remembered
do not require our silence as remembrance, as honor
do not expect our silence to end:
the carnage of war
the child starved
the woman raped
the virulence of intolerance
the Earth desecrated.
It is the living who require our silence
in a lifetime of fear and complicity.
The Dead
do require our courage to defy the powerful and greedy
do require our lives be loud, compassionate, courageous

a downward spiral has created a whirlwind
stripping away the surface and exposing
the remnants of
old times ne’er forgotten
could devolution be the cause…
once kindly uncle sam
gave abundant support to people who were facing
depression
war
atomic and nuclear threats
starvation
and segregated everything
devolution could return us to times of superiority for some
inferiority for others
god’s good graces were flowing
as the fate of dred scott was determined
as fort sumter was attacked

Alchemy of money
transforming repulsive,
ugly, hideous human forms into
Powerful producers, reality TV stars,
Super predator presidents,
Multimillionaire quarterbacks,
Elected officials, political operatives,
Oscar-winning actors—
boys being boys
following footsteps of
The Founding Fathers:
He stepped up to
the auction block and
grabbed her breast, her pussy;
As part of doing business—so
stealing away from the big house
in wee hours,
slipping into darkness

You are a gift.
Wrapped. Untouched.
In an islet.

in the morning
without warning
terrible tenderness
lay exposed
where once
were smiles
suppressed
under debt’s
weight
compressed
judgment feigned
viciously trained
from above to fall
To each other’s smiles
they woke
only to reach
only to reach
through the last
through the blast
that not only barriers
sonic1
but in their hearts
the window broke
chipped glass flying

Rhythms and rhymes
and tides
of cascading energy
that collide
atop waves
of miraculous
magical moments
orchestrated by
divinely
enchanted signs
that point
to the sky
where clouds sneeze
a breeze
that blows
gently through bones
and blood
and flesh
enlivened
from the caress
of a spirit
beyond this plane
of physical
mundane
insane
ways of doing
everyday things
when the focus
should be
on the freeing
of souls

Hunger pains twanging,
nauseatingly,
like out of tune bass strings.
Dysentery of the mind.
Neurotic Apathy;
now there’s a contradiction in terms…
but, when you cross the borderlands
into that crazy and confused
‘Land Of Empty’
you realized that Hell isn’t just waiting…
it’s gone and sent you a ‘Taster’
Scattergun thoughts,
trying to lead you sideways,
deep into the Muddled-Mazes…
it can sometimes
take a good year or two
to resurface from those strange places.

As the city we love
submerges
into decay,
stores closing everywhere
no one concerned enough
to stop decline,
the wealthy secure
in castles of comfort
indifferent
to loss of jobs, homes,
and the people are silent,
overwhelmed
by disaster waiting
to embrace us.
Conditioned by the media
to passively accept
threats to existence.
we do not protest
the collapse of our future,
since it creeps up
on stealthy paws,
rather than Goth invasion.

His nickname was “Spanky.”
A Vietnam vet who slept
under the rattling rails
of the brown line on Western.
With gashes grossly gathered upon lips
from bar room fist fights
he would wander through nights
floating with alcohol wings
probing the street with passive stare.
Dust in every pore.
Dirt under every nail.
Drink on every breath.
The sweat stench of summer
wrapping it’s odor over the alleyways.
The war bitter soldier stands
trapped in his splintered mind
howling hourly,