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"Nature Weeps for it's Wicked"

An infant’s dream possessed by darkness.
Taste its newborn scars.
Lost, with a future gone before birth.
Clandestine memories shattered
in the blink of blinding eyes.

Savage welts blister, upon the foul angels skin.
Broken wings celebrate the dark insurrection
into a glorious destruction.
Dissolved visions plan a vengeance
unbeknown to the victim.

A silver moon sits atop the world
as tadpoles race to their doom.
Creeping fantasies buried
under the secret corners
of her virginal mind’s eye.

Patients, are Virtual

Have you ever "spied" a rainbow
after storm clouds have had their way?
...feeling no "wonder", or enjoyment
because, all the colors had turned to grey;

or maybe, tried to eat fresh strawberries
that you've favored, all along,
to find each morsel tastes like, nothing
then, you know that something's....wrong!

You might "fancy" hearing some music
perhaps, your favorite...for a "treat";
then, find yourself, dissappointed
because, the tune is not as, "sweet".

His worth in pool

His worth in pool

The dripping sweat
ripples his reflection.

He stares drained,
knowing this
battle has
ended.

No pleasure in this
changing mirror,
quiet reflection
he trembles.

What was his worth,
he had slaughtered
brothers, fathers
on both sides.
Those with sword,
those he lead.

Would he be
forever the rebel
hunted,
willing to die
for his people
for beliefs his
beliefs.

He stands,
leaves no image
to the water….

Civil War

Communities, separate into factions
Fracture beyond recognition,
Disintegrate.

Battles rage, there is a war to be won,
But no one  is on the same page,
Verbal cut and thrust.

The weak follow the strong,
Whether they are right
Or wrong.

Hearts and souls are crushed under foot,
The dead and dying lie bleeding,
smearing the ground.

Blood and guts flow freely,
Once bonds are broken
can they ever mend?

Trolls Aren't Mythical

Threatening violence
in wake of words unliked,
knowing online anonymity
will always protect
from real consequence.

Insulting others for
their honesty, manipulating those
that stand by what they say,
yet accept responsibility
when they are wrong.

Fishing for more sympathy
with lies and hateful diatribe
on being so hard-done-by,
while masking hate with
"I'm just trying to help".

Achilles Heel

In these days of darkness
The dose of faith comes from within

I put all my wishes in a hope chest
Only to find dusty cobwebs
Long held in this cold and dreaded prison
With the gates unlocked
My foolish heart wouldn’t let me pass

I kept in this rage for so long
Suddenly the volcano in my chest exploded
Evacuating the city of innocence
Leaving me orphaned on unknown roads

VOID

What progress within the static constant
I could shut one eye for ever and nothing
would change but appearance, becoming a
one eyed blinker temporarily blind
for an infrequent instant.

Impatient through the grinding hopeless
numbness that battles my sensibilities
seeking distraction within view of the
impasse that encircles this fracture.

Splitting vertically beneath my feet
sees me stumbling backwards to the
safety of the ragged edge.

The Voice You Will Remember

“Look at me”, they shout,
“look at me,
look how wonderful I am
compared to you!”
But they are nothing,
less than insect defecation
stuck to grimy windows
sweltering in useless heat.

“I am here”, they shriek,
“I am here,
look how much I matter,
so much more than you!”
But they are insignificant,
as tiny as the lives they lead,
pathetic amongst the throngs
they so desperately
try to rise above.

On A Homeless Man's Death

A homeless man lay dying
On a bleak and wintry day
People purposely avoided him
As if he was in their way

God’s angels watched in wonder
Surely, someone would care
To help this fellow human
But, they only acted unaware

He had helped a threatened woman
He fought to save her life
And the man that tried to harm her
Attacked the homeless man with his knife

People kept on walking
As tears fell down his face
The life poured from inside him
As he prayed for dying grace

LATE WINTER'S NIGHT With Shirley Harrison's help

In a dark and varied landscape
on a night of sickle moon
all seems stark and severe

As were the artist's medium
a charcoal sketch
on gray paper, bare

Even the sky is smudged
by stratus thumbs
smearing random stars
from west to east
leading to further decreased
ambient light

Skeletal trees upward reach
and with naked arms beseech
a return of leaves and warmth
having become cold
inured to their own nudity

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