War face, the gritty, dirt stained face pressed
Down into the muddy bloody ground,
Hoping to avoid the errant bomb,
Seeking to press through the brittle shell,
Of his boney skull; detonating, Ending
His moldy maggot-meat fueled life,
Bared teeth of mother gnashing against
Rusted steel, thorny wire that cuts through marrow,
Cuts through emotions, crushing,
Slicing through, the fleshy unwanted fruit,
Single mother violated by colonial ships,
Pressing deep into her rich rivers,
Stripped of her resources, exploited,
Nubian Kings denied their majesty,
Moved like pawns by their post-colonial massa's,
Gleam in a child's eye, watching sullen
Faces roll out of his memories
Down into the stream of our collective,
Severed, consciousness. Broken off of,
The shattered Edifice – Godhead,
Vacant stares, a million tiny cosmos,
The full realization of Innocence Lost,
The glaring, view that left Moses,
Alone standing at the mountain top,
Satisfaction that filled Bathsheba's
Heart, when David met her starry-eyed
Gaze, leading him to betray,
Chasing Lust, with barbaric abandon.
Shimmer, of ticky-tacky ticker tape,
Parades that shower down on her, naked,
Breasts in celebration of his invasion,
Carl Solomon and angel headed hipster's
Howl in the moonlit night.
Oogly-eyed that lie gasping, starving.
The sweet nectar of life, Poison gas
Floods in, choking them in mass graves.
Wailing rain, bombshells, wracking his brain.
Sound of death drowning any glimmer
Of hope in the land, where work is,
Freedom, and life is an animated form of death,
Steady hand and a smooth line, polished
In the long dark shadow of Daddy's Ivory tower
Or those born into bondage, all unsuspecting slaves,
Fasten their silken chains, ejaculated,
On shores of nations that won't obey,
While protestors stand silently,
Screaming without voices,
Estranged byproduct, schizophrenic society: child,
Promote violence, moments that silence,
Awkward transitions — sports commentary,
How Yankee parents sing Christmas blues.
YOU ARE READING
Pyrrhic Victory
PoetryThe body of this collection of work is derived from the experiences of my life and the lives of other's that have been effected directly or indirectly by the social conditions of the early twenty-first century in the US, and by extension much of the...
