The Pawn #poetry #chess #selfimportance

Low man on the totem pole

you only move one space

you live in anonymity

without even a face

*

strive against the elements

success is but a plan

each, every tiny move

one square against the man

*

a lonely and exhausting job

this game against the odds

work it’s cut out for you

like running with the dogs

*

digging into dirt and grime

strong footing in the dust

I think I can, I think I can

move forward is a must

*

little did the strong man know

wise pawns can achieve

when the king has lost his throne

supplanted then achieve

 

 

 

 

All the Leaves are Brown #californiadrought #watershortage

central valley water

days of drought
catch the rain in a jar
each drop precious

*

price of admission

turn fresh produce into weeds

highest bidder

I continue to read ridiculous reports of fights for water in California. I drive through the Central Valley and see new vineyards cropping up and the dairy industry, walnut, almond, pistachio orchards along with fresh produce (that supply a nation) are being killed. A nation’s stupidity cannot feed her people.

The Rose and the Thorn #poetry

dew speckled rose

I am but a worm on this leaf

I look upon two sides of the world

she is a beauty

full of life, a treasure

fanning hope and peace

he is a devil

piercing the sky with pain

injustice and anger

are his middle name

I am but a worm on this leaf

“In matters of truth and justice, there is no difference between large and small problems, for issues concerning the treatment of people are all the same.”

Albert Einstein

“But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people.”

Psalm 22:6

The prompt for Poets United Midweek Motif is Justice or Poetic Justice. I will take poetic license and give a voice to the worm.

Photograph: Rose called ‘Peace

“X” – eXtinguish the flames #atozchallenge #riots

IMG_3412 (2)

Luz last night the hellioned beast raised its ugly head  in NewCago.

The gangs have unleashed their secret weapon.

They circled the opportunity like a predator for months

Fires are burning all over NewCago and there are just too few good people to put them out.

Those who had a job have one no longer.

Most have lost their meager possessions.

Young men are empowered with hatred.

The police are behind their iron clad doors.

Leaders had their speeches prepared in advance.

Hearts have gone AWOL.

…and if I don’t find a way to extinguish these flames,  NewCago will be nothing but ashes.

“Life in NewCago” is a  fictional series. The protagonist, Sam, is trying to restore a city run by gangsters and most of the people helping Sam are dead. There’s not much a single individual can do to put out the flames even if he can’t be killed.

Baltimore, a city that I love dearly, is in a shambles today. Fortunately,  there are community heroes who are trying to calm the heat. May those who care about their  city prevail.

This is a rather sobering post for the letter X. I want to thank the A to Z Challenge coordinators for this month of blogging.

Photography: Baltimore by L. Moon

X

Some bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge:

1146.
1163.
1172.
1174.
1175.
1177.

Too Young #terrorism #children #poetry

frozen leaf

Chilled by the hawk’s distant cry

unwelcome wings on the horizon

life threatening wind approaches

I need no eagle eye

Frozen by the headlines

man sharpens cold steel

children trying their hand

paralyzed beyond my spine

Motionless I await

this storm front from Hell

sensible is lost in radical thought

people plead at heaven’s gate

*

Child beheads a Syrian captive.  Is this what our world wants 8-year-old children to do in their spare time????

Boys in all countries (including the US ) are indoctrinated as young as 8 to be gang members (which would include rape, drug dealing, killing). A patient of mine was 5 when he joined his gang.

 

 

 

The Right to Give Love Away #poetry #humanrights

Fall Lincoln

Man opens his mouth and words result

making mighty his lofty claims

as he pontificates and struts

self-edification his primary aim

*

the ruler of this world so petty

the rich so powerful and “right”

we worship what is sexually pretty

the poor and lowly we despise

*

hold a ball where you stand

juggle it with two others

gather and clasp a small hand

put aside your druthers

*

turn the balls now inside out

see where a smile grows

it is in the weakest things

beauty’s goodness overflows

*

here’s a right we all possess

if we open up our hearts

look not to grandiose emptiness

sacrificial love a good place to start

heart-in-ivy.jpg

 

“Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute. Open your mouth, judge righteously, defend the rights of the poor and needy.”

Prov 31:8 & 9

Today’s prompt at Poets United is Human Right’s Day

 

I Write in Blood #poetry #middleeast

penned in blood

While you pen in ink

I am writing this down in blood

dipping my quill in life spent

that’s still steamy

from the day’s killing

I am not a writer of fiction

these words are fact

I write what I see

a building full of people

the doors are chained from the outside

the henchmen smile

they love the sound of terror

gasoline and fire such a beautiful sight

one of the black garbed men taunts

flinging the red tongues

the flames lick higher and higher

extinguishing life, hope, dreams

the joke is on you

with each life you dispel

the darkness on the outside

claims what was good on the inside

the wraith will have no home

nothing to claim

 flames will consume  his soul

 

…And we just sit back while innocent people who live life quietly are being targeted losing their homes, herded like cattle  and killed.

 

 

Child’s Play #poetry #ebola #children

 

swing

One

The number of people

remaining in my family

who are alive

Two

days ago they buried  mother

all I saw was a bag

no one her age has survived

Three

dead trees  left of my village

warning of departed spirits

the only voices you hear

Four

Down the hallway, behind closed doors

you will find a ward of untended people

laying in their own waste I fear

Five

Is the age I was at my last birthday

no one knows if I will see my sixth

Does anyone care if I die?

*****

 I was sickened to read about the treatment of dying men, women and children at ground zero for Ebola. Half a year ago, the CDC and WHO excused away a virus that killed 70-90% of it’s victims. When isolation could have kept the death toll in the 100s, commerce took precedence. The lack of action and ambivalence has resulted in unnecessary death and disaster in West Africa.

“Red” is in this Season #prose #socialism #photography

red head

“You look good in red,” all the store clerks said as they gathered round admiring their work.

I shook my head and pointed, “I like that one!”

It was the same coat just in a rich royal blue.

“No, that was last season’s coat. It is not for you.”

I pulled the coat up next to my skin. My blue eyes became more vibrant.

“Yes. I like the blue.” My eight- year- old spirit was not going to be railroaded.

“We could not possibly sell this coat to you,”  the clerk shook his head firmly at my mama.

“Then I will have none,” I stomped out of the store.

It was that way all over town. It was as if everyone had swallowed the same bitter pill.

“This season’s color is red,” she pointed at a red dress.

“This season’s color is red,” he pointed at a red chapeau.

“I want blue!” I pointed at a blue cap on a mannequin in a dusty corner.

In walked a little girl the same age as myself. She carried herself like a soldier at eight.

“There it is,” she smiled like a snake at the last blue hat in the store.

The store clerk gladly pulled the hat off the mannequin.

“It needs red.”

The girl looked at me from the corner of her eye, as she pulled out an emblem of red to be sewn on her hat.

“Do it quickly,” the girl clapped her hands in a practiced motion.

A clerk rushed to the back to have the emblem sewn on.

I walked out of the store. “So this is how it is.”

The general’s daughter could have whatever she wanted: drives in fancy cars, ice cream at the confectioner’s shop, and a blue coat and hat.

I went back to the first shop.

“I would like three of those red coats, please.”

At the next shop: ” I would like four of those red dresses, please.”

“Yes, five red chapeaux s’il vous plait. No need for an emblem. It will wear one soon enough.”

I will hate the color red. I will dye the underneath of each garment a different color. I will never have the cold heart of a militant marionette. Not even when I turn nine.

“My blood underneath will still run blue,” I smiled.

 

 

 

Apocalypse Yesterday #news #humor #poetry

before the light went out

“Step Right Up, Sit Right Down

What we offer is for free

you simply give to us your hand

we take your soul and play the lottery”

*

the hawkers were at it again

dawn til dusk it’s always the same

they had to corner a billion or so

before the winter’s came

*

people by the month

in a long and steady line

you can wave at each other

Skype has a cadence to step in time

*

“Don’t take candy from a stranger”

mama’s instruction runs through my head

you may not be taking poison

but I assure you will be  dead

*

I looked in my cereal bowl

only three flakes one table-spoon of milk

my children’s tummies are screaming

they’re aching to be filled

*

“EXTRA, EXTRA  read all about it”

special’s for today

a loaf of rotten bread

new beheadings on display

*

Ebola has been countered

so the newscasters have us misled

politically they tell their lies

soothing our unease and dread

*

The circus will soon be coming

the tents are in our town

you have to be a magician

to keep the bayonets down

*

in the original story

four horsemen had a goal

all corners of the ravaged earth

to recieve disaster’s bowls

*

pestilence, we have so little

famine, it’s just a pinch

earthquakes and fires never

tornadoes theyr’e a cinch

*

Truthfully  what is there to fear

there’s forewarning on the news

and think of all the movies

they’ve stocked with ample clues

*

I really am not worried

were making out just fine

two boxes left of wheat chex

for milk we stand in line

*

the lines are getting longer

but not as long as some

I’ve heard in parts of Russia

they stand for weeks to come

when all of this is over

I’ll thankfully raise hat to hand

and pack the kids and what not

we’ll off to Disneyland

***

got milk

This is meant to be dark humor, but if you don’t notice a shred of truth just look at the news, go to the grocery store where cereal boxes have shrunk in size (twice is less than 2 months). Ebola and beheadings are serious issues that “they” are having a hard time finding a big enough carpet to sweep this stuff under.

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