Category: Inhumane

The Body of Christmas

Image courtesy of Patch.com

The body of this day scribed

in the giving of joy,

sacramental life found

in a bowl full of jelly

shaken by the deep belly laugh

of a white bearded fat man,

remember the truth meant

to be kept in the day,

so, turn in mind

to those who cannot share

in the giving abundance–

thus, are paid in the blessings

of holy lip service, the emptied garbage

to fill the landscape with

glittering wrappings of the day’s

leavings to leave a day

of a soulful mask searching for a soul

it lost long ago

in eternal hungering for fulfillment

never filled with ever more consumed.

Winter’s Will

image courtesy of ALEX VASILYEV on wired.com

There is no understanding

how winter comes

for it comes in too many ways

at too many times

often when it shouldn’t

starting at the edges

creeping to the core

snatching away all the covers

driving out the flames

or

slowly, softly

almost tenderly

like a gentle, timid lover

will winter drift into days

as autumn delicately falls

little dip by little dip into winter’s icy arms

then a frozen world is made.

At times winter rides

with sword drawn

into spring

after life has begun

to wreck havoc on all things

green and growing,

make still all hearts feeling the flow of life begin,

at those times, winter rides

until sweated out

in the course of time.

Yet winter may freeze us solid

in the midsts of summer’s heatwaves

as we stand over gaping mouths of graves.

While some breathing in the hope of spring

as others live in winter’s black ice

suffering the bite of hunger and need

winter’s winter grows larger still

beyond Arctic, beyond talk of tundra,

or talk of some kind of permafrost—

but something too many know.

we will not end in fire

nor will we end in ice

in the end,

it will be the lukewarm breeze

of indifference,

the one to do us in.

 

 

A Razor Sharpened Tongue

image courtesy of iheartdogs.com

When the devils dwelling

within humanity’s heart

show themselves

through the horrors

of animals beaten, tortured

starved, or treated                   

with the willful disregard

of neglect–

I do rage,

wishing, at the very least,

for a razor sharpened

renegade tongue,

with which I could do damage–

wreak havoc,

slice and dice with it,

and after I’m done—

take all my slicing

and all my dicing

into arms strong enough

to carry the weight

of cruelty bled out,

drained of all its bloody

need to hurt, ignorant

of the suffering it has caused,

and toss it all into a funeral pyre

built to destroy all these

blood drained devils dwelling

within humanity’s heart.

Finally, finally leaving us to treat

ourselves,

other creatures,

our world

as if we truly do

have the souls

God has given us.

But it would take more, much more

than a razor sharpened tongue

to cut all the devils out.

so I turn my hands

to help, comfort,

aid as I can—

small drops,

yes, very small drops

to wash the darkness

of all the devils out.