Stay in Darkness | Pow
I realized you were stuck in darkness.
Just as I was.
I stayed with you.
And fell in love.
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Joy Bringer | Esther D. Wells
Although life seems,
As if it’s a dream.
It’s actually a nightmare,
In disguise.
Surprise.
Lovers | Ananya S. Guha
In between
there is nowhere
only masks swirl around
this nothingness
gazes fall as shadows
only nothing remains
biting teeth, gnarled hands
and the music lover
who sings to desperation.
Cafe movements
lights blue, red, yellow
someone drinks the red wine,
one more.
The music drools
so do lovers.
No Self-Esteem | Esther D. Wells
I’ve lost the feeling of life,
Scattered aloft in the wind it blows.
Forever forgotten,
Forever gone.
For what was I but a speck,
Among the stars.
Smog | Ananya S. Guha
The skies up water
rains smother
winter’s smog
is like the dreary
fog.
Umbrella in hand
I search for rains
the city is smog-smeared
warnings all around
I entered to see people
swirling in mists of the sun.
Where is the smog I asked?
Someone said, “Like people,
the smog is also wearing
a hooded mask”.
A Would Be Prophet | Joanne Kennedy Frazer
Visit his shrine. Believe him. He’ll make us great, promote American values.
Expel the heretics, build a wall, deport immigrants, ban Muslims,
protect American values.
Listen at his pulpit. Honor him. Bring your anger, your bully
attitude, it’s just words.
Lyin’ Ted, little Marco, crazy Bernie, woman pig/slob/dog—praise
American values.
Relax in his sanctuary. Trust him. Try something new, what do you have to lose.
Violence will be banned in black neighborhoods, he’ll fix it,
promise American values.
Come to his altar. Rely on him. The chosen, smart ones will answer the call.
Paying no taxes is the holy, intelligent option. Preach American
values.
Approach his sanctuary. Put your faith in him. He will change. My name is Jo
and I do not approve this message. I stand with my granddaughters, my American values.
Time-Filler | Guy Farmer
He paces from one
Mundane task to
Another, numbing
Each waking moment
With some time-filler
To help him
Avoid thinking.
More minimalist poetry at https://www.unconventionalbeing.com/.
A Man in Dachau | Neil Creighton
In a dream I saw a man in Dachau
give his last morsel of bread
to one he thought was suffering more.
I heard his thoughts.
“I am no mere plaything of circumstance.
They can take my life but not
the freedom to choose my way.”
I rushed to tell my friends
that choice determines who we are,
proof sufficient being in Dachau
a man chose compassion over self.
One friend replied:
“Noble indeed is such a one.
Heroes make these choices.
The exception though is not the rule.
Choice is circumscribed by circumstance
and eliminated for most by horror of place.”
Another then spoke:
“Oppression’s boot can find the weight
To crush all choice away.
Was that man’s compassion an act of choice?
I rather think it a gift of grace.”
The man from Dachau then appeared
to confirm my friends were right.
“The parade”, he said, “is unendingly long
of those who shuffle by –
starving children, women beaten,
the tortured, guiltless and cruelly oppressed,
the dispossessed, the mind manacled,
the legions of the poor.
I merely do what I must do.
Those who can, should follow.”
More at http://windofflowers.blogspot.com.au.
Inner Hollow, USA | G. Louis Heath
Someone is watching me, obsessed with vengeance.
I think I saw them last night. Their eyes flared bright
incandescent red with hatred for what I am. They
watch me every waking hour. I walk outside wearing
a kabuki mask of indifference riveted to my face, but
I am afraid, very afraid. My friend shows no fear. He
has journeyed deep inside himself where they cannot
reach. Only a shell of him stands before me, his words
echoing from his hollowness. I wander alone in a daze,
haunted by his emptiness, full of nothingness. He is a
hollow man now, full of the pain of oblivion. I remain
worth their vigilance for I am not yet hollow. I’ll be
circumspect in what I do, I mean really careful. I’ll stay
not yet hollow, never as hollow as the actually hollow.
Pattern | Cattail Jester
There’s a sad pattern
of loss and poverty
as inevitable as dry skin
along the hairline
Are they too close to see it,
too close to embrace
a change…
or do they see it, too tired
or discouraged to even
reach for it?