Headline Poem 6/10/14 -- How many dead?

There was another deadly school shooting today in Oregon. Today's poem is based on the tragedy. 

How many dead?

How many dead 

Before we assemble the

Courage to put 

Life ahead of sin

Fullfillment in front of profit

And kindness before revenge

Before we admit defeat and 

     execute   a   plan

To open 

the sack 

of demented rings 

of fire

And stop laughing 

at the sink

And ignoring 

the swim?

The boat. The plane. The windmill. 

All are flying and swirling 

Creating constant commotion and emotion

And devastation and relapse. 

     It must end. 

We must demand things change. 

Because there are

     Too many headlines. 

Too 

many 

names. 

Of the same. Dead 

at the hand 

of another. 

Brother. 

Sister. 

Cousin. 

Friend. 

Get outraged and 

     call on the bluffs. 

It's enough! 

Grass wants to be green, not red. 

We are all tired of red. 

Headline Poem 4/24/14 -- Dr. Jerry

Three Americans have been killed in Afghanistan. Internet still sketchy, so no link. Among the dead, a doctor -- killed by a man who was supposed to be protecting him. 

Dr. Jerry

Life dedicated to serving 

and saving the world's 

     most      vulnerable      and      weak. 

Sacrifices 

     immense      and      deep. 

Married for thirty-four years,

he      retires      each      night 

listening to songs of gunshots -- 

a tune he'd rather not learn. 

The melody shrill. It repeats. 

Rotten harmony among the dead. 

The bullets whiz, 

     through      tears      and      blood,

muscle and sinew, stretched, 

incomplete. 

Fear rings through all artificially-trusted sides 

     and      corners. 

Dr. Jerry protects while 

     enemies      lurk. 

Westerners are trapped, 

and attacked,

while alienation is on the rise,

getting higher with the April heat. 

     Defeat.      Retreat. 

No one is safe. 

No one is safe. 

Headline Poem 3/9/14 Cherry Hill Mall, New Jersey

(Photo credit Philly.com)

Be aware! There's a finger bitter on the loose in Camden, New Jersey. According to this, and other sources, there was a dispute in a mall parking lot which led one woman (still at large) to bite another woman's finger, severely. So, today's poem is about this parking lot violence at a Cherry Hill Mall.

Cherry Hill Mall, New Jersey

Parking spots are a dime a dozen

Unless someone takes 

The one you've supposedly chosen

     
And that person is angry already about the color of her scarf,
or how her sister talks to her

Or how she holds a knife

When she cuts the bread that is served to her
     with butter on a platter

 Today none of this matters

Today, the righteous woman 

        Who came to try on clothes

     Bit a woman's finger 

All the way to the bone

Brown   curls   soft and    flowing 

        Deceiving. 

Suppose they were supposed to meet
    more in common than a story on the news

Suppose the witness in the parking lot

  was there to meet her lover whom no one knows

 in the spot she claimed was hers, and she and he,
landed themselves shamelessly on the news 

       Roads and lots,    abandoned    and    reclaimed
have a way of         justifying their     unused   space

The woman on the screen may turn herself in

smelling like lime and cucumbers
from the homemade supper she fixes for her friends... 

While the     victim  
chooses       with one hand

from a menu
of soup broth and chocolate milk

Hospital cafeteria meals ordered for         herself

Headline Poem 2/7/14 -- when you

(Photo credit Pinterest) 

Today's poem is based on the images and news of violence in Central African Republic. I am not sure what else to say other than it is hard to read about this and believe it is real, that it is not make-believe -- a horror movie, or bad dream. For some, this is life. 

when you

when you are not afraid to kill a man

in broad daylight

cameras looming

balking at leave no trace

when you will not be punished for death, 

words come out worse than fools

bloody

bastard 

edit them out

when you drag him out to pasture 

like an old race horse whose time is done 

useless now to the men who sit and smoke imported cigars

useless now that he cannot run the way he could

useless now because he talks to the people who won't talk back 

when you touch his hoofs 

they are smooth in the wrong places, 

too flat to make a difference

something should be done with this one

when you see the man's boots are bloodied

and that no amount of grass rubbing or soap will ever take that away

the color will fade, but never disappear

the smell will linger, 

like a skunk who sprays and then laughs in your face

take that! 

long after I'm gone

you took my body

but my scent lingers on

you are the bastard

when you see his body has been hacked into pieces

there is always a first time 

for seeing a man's brains

lying outside of his head

this is the hardest one 

you beg for there to be no more

when you lie awake in fear

there are no nightmares

because there is no sleep

you cannot dream or weep

when you are left in villages

to fend for yourselves

while neighborhoods are emptied and destroyed

there is no escape. 

Headline Poem 2/4/14 -- hidden alaska

(Photo credit CNN)

Today's headline -- Alaska has the highest report of rape in the nation. CNN columnist John D. Sutter recently traveled to the 49th state to try to find out why. 75 villages in Alaska have no law enforcement presence. 59% of women in Alaska will be raped, beaten, assaulted, or threatened with violence in their lifetimes. Here is a link with ways to show support, and to help make Alaska a safer place.

hidden alaska

there is a hidden alaska
the tourists don't see
hours of daylight
with no rescue plea

cruise ships swish past glaciers
on the wide open sea
but she has secrets,
hidden by waves
suffocating from being on display
always near, on the edge
like reading tea leaves without a key

the scenery is beautiful
but then they go away
left with hurt and decay
another one was raped today

always vulnerable.
no one to call
rotten relatives
passed out on the wall
not a cop in this place.
only airplanes in winter,
hours away
never safe. 

it is a cycle they are trying to break