It Will End with Us

biosprit-subventionen-indonesien

A ton of wealth,
Kingdoms come and go.
Hatred and vicious swipes
rule today’s world,
obliterating the love,
tearing at faith –
the faith we have in ourselves.
Oceans rich in abundance,
overwhelming us,
are overwhelmed
with our filth
and disgust –
as much as we are disgusted
with humanity.
Just stop pillaging
and polluting
and take
the chance
we could leave
this planet whole

 REGARDLESS

of the current dictators
that rule its waves.

Be Free

sil

When memories of life lunge
from dark corners,
fight with your heart
and set free the angels willing to leave.
Let loose the shadows
and their sticky hold to let the light shine on you.
Bask with hope
and new possibilities,
illuminate them with your soul
when daylight rains on you and howling
treacherous gales force their way –
endure them  – only then can you decide
where the leaves will fall, and if the sun comes
again, it will shine where you say.

Not a Green and Pleasant Land

aleppo.jpg

And on that green hill far away,
a city cries its loose, parched, grey stone;
it drizzles beside wizened honeysuckle
and yellowing foliage – unkempt and sprawling –
an analogous mass too decimated to be held
or remembered – it is in shock, in brutal denial,
in the middle of it all.
There was once a sight most beautiful,
a sight to please us all.
What was that stuff, that sense, that will
that lead us once to glory? Where is the light
that died in us – or so says an ancient story?

Atavistic shadows seek turmoil and unrest;
we dare not speak the words that once
were given. Smothered from head to toe;
blood cursed eyes are set aglow – victims
inside the garb of spirituality, are hiding in cities
without walls –  neither in or out – nothing to see
especially mustard gas and myriad chemical
weapons afloat on unsuspecting air and its people;
there are no alarm bells and it escapes bloody knuckles
when it comes knocking, penetrating ghostly,
invisible arms which have no means to protect
or barricade against evil and war’s hunger.

Screams run freely when children run from the crumbs
that are side streets, but there is nowhere to hide;
shells have no ceilings, inside there are no walls –
dead bodies lie neither in or out – death doesn’t know about
cement, or boundaries, nor does it know about peace
or a suffocating child’s burning eyes, innocence,
a parent praying for death, or politics or religion,
or…whatever it is we are allowing inside of these
non existent walls and… outside of them.