Posted in Poetry

Week in Review: B&W

Intimate 

silent nights
voided days
the human pulse fades away
lying still in slumber bed
daddy finds his boyish head
asleep on pillows fluffed at noon
now compressed by hallow dread.

running home
workday done
daddy falls on bended knee
to watch his son being fed
opiates, a final call
police and dealers, absent lovers too
all relinquish his human goo.

silent nights
voided days
daddy wanders crumbled earth
releases anger, bottled grief
showers only begotten
witness life is simply rotten.

Rest in peace Adam, 21, aspiring chef and accountant.

Posted in Poetry

touched

“she’s crazy”, they said.

whispers

in the halls,

blind mirrors,

invisible,

screaming calls.

“She is well”, doctors testified. 

They found a way
to hang her dreams,
mother and son,
grueling, plotting
their evil schemes.

“lock her up”, they repeated.

feet shackled

hands tied

tears streamed

down rain chains,

insanity mystified.

Sad story. True. Except she learned to live behind the walls. Idle hands that once made art, now folded, praying for death. A long life, perhaps atonement for sins. Fair? Probably not. It rains on both good and evil. Still, she wondered why God had her suffer. The rest of her life tormented.