The Poet

Mortal elation

Lust of loins

Anguish of mind

The poet’s soul

Rips through

The body

A bloody pen

Fashioning a symphony

Of impassioned prose

The poet

A composer of

Profound inspiration

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Twister

In the dark

Thoughts are spirals

Of chaos

Her personal twister

Traps her mind

Pirouetting through the air

Where will it land

Anywhere but OZ

For this dreaming girl

There is no magic

Flying monkeys

And witches

Would be a pleasure ride

She will not land

In the Emerald Isle

No, this Dorothy

Will not land at all

The twister has found

Its prize

To keep

Mother Earth

Little by little

Battered and bruised

Elements of her body

Her soul

Disappearing

*

Taken and tortured

By Man’s greed

*

Gluttony and bloodshed

Seeping into her pores

Poisoning her

*

She lashes out

Inundated with tears

Wailing and quaking

The flames of her anger

Rage on

*

Man does not

Obey

Her decrees

Heed

Her roars

Her distemper propagates

*

Loss and starvation

Misery and death

Will consume man

*

Allowing her restoration

Never Past

“What’s past is past”

“Forget the past”

“Leave the past behind”

Lies we tell ourselves

To get over love

Control our grief

Box our emotions

Forget

Forget

Forget

~

We cannot lobotomized

Our memories

Our pain

Our grief

We can only live with

Learn from

And never forget

Hope Endures

A bitter taste

Destroying beauty

People that kill

People who die

Children who wake

From gunshots outside

Families afraid to

Send their children to school

Blood soaked clothing

Of mothers whose

Sons have died in their arms

Guns in the hands

Of the innocent and nefarious

Bombs dropped

Bloodshed in the name of God

Wars for power, land, oil, greed

Mother’s without children

Babies without families

Nations without trust

Humans without Love

***

Hope endures faintly