Rome was not burned in a day
It suffered an agonizing decay
Pillars raised in golden streets
Finery and art, exquisite treats
Fattened off the backs of masses
Blind prophets cried of salvation
Wastewater wage middle classes
Starved, practicing diets of distraction
1.6.21 - Sue Infamy
Glass broken in a thousand fallen shards
Grey matter shattered by false Red hats
Fates heard these drums beat, once anon
Over distant lands and other gory shores
Maws that guzzled up corn syrup, not history
Gleeful greed-fattened hearts unfurled Rome
Hate wraps words on bricks flung with fervor
Before crumbling hospitals close their doors
Pasty dissonance so loud the towers tremble
While Privileged fan fires, led by Denier's guilt
Cities burn, while heavy clouds refuse to weep,
Apollyon’s mad mouth sewn chaos now reaps
12.17.20 - Pandemic Poetry #3
Made up stories to keep warm countless nights, wasted lives slinking into other skin,
All grown men, turns out, are really, still just boys dreaming of being a race car driver.
We look for ways to distract ourselves from these cold grey days, walling ourselves in
Frozen lakes of silenced quarantined promise, praying this spring thaw will revive her.
8.20.20 - Pandemic Sonnet #1
Hot rain pounded on square, concrete tombs
Our opinions overrode data, famous last words
For single-pained souls across a gasping globe
In empty classrooms, ghosts talked to screens
Smiled and pretended that everything was clean
Science toiled cures, scrubs-clad martyrs screamed
Scholars silenced, pleaded safety not guaranteed
Wise words twisted, gathering dust on toxic pulpits
Whilst pious, fat hypocrites proudly flouted lessons writ
In their treasured, leatherbound, ancient moral scripts
Pride becameth Fall for faithless worshipping a Con’s greed
Falsely-winged devout demanded sacrifice, so blinded
They offered up children to a righteous Death Cult idol
Blame for self-evident sins falls upon poisoned, Holy men
*notes and such
Two lines I liked but couldn’t figure out how to tweak and use. I still think this needs some re-arranging, but it needs to get out of my head for a while.
Omens in six-foot deep ends justified by green means
Foreshadowed in testing, autopsies backdated two weeks,
6.2.20 - Pandemic Poetry #1 - Better Men and Broken Kings
Stay safe in these hectic moments, loves
Sit down, wash your weary hands clean
Your tired shoulders, bloodied and battered
Choking on the pale embers from fellow men
Still gasping for air, begging, you tell stories
Desperate is the need to be heard and received
Dare us to look in the mirror’s harsh light
Reflected back, something isn’t quite right
Beaten, blackened eyes that have seen
People pleading, loving, despite our sins
Warning, crying for whomever next reads
No one wins while greed and hate prevail
Never stop hoping, never just give in
Treat each other better, make art and love
So the universe will celebrate our dreams
And deeds of Better Men and broken kings
*due to uncertainty on how to best utilize social media, I have elected to not include tags that might be needed for providing important information regarding the current crisis facing the world, but I’ll post the picture below from Atlanta, 2016. I was there and witnessed people peacefully marching for equality that has been promised for centuries yet never truly delivered. I hope we find a way through this and in the meantime, I’ll be here, listening, writing down stories. I would love to hear yours and share a few tears.