a river of stones #7

Life passes quickly, but
memories continue to hide

a river of stones #6

Someone told me once:
“I don’t understand people”
neither do I: 1 hour 29 mins 45 secs

"Arbeit macht frei" (work will set you free) writer's island #2-destiny

“I know people get tired of hearing about it, imagine what it was like living it.
If you think it can’t happen again, turn on some pea-brained Right Wing radio gasbag sometime. With their irrational fear of Mexicans, Muslims, gays or anyone not exactly like them, they tend to make people like the fanatical racist Heinrich Himmler sound as benign and rational as Mr. Rogers, but nowhere near as smart.”
By Michael McGonigle

Loaded on to a train, a bleak and dreary sky
where coldness enters every seam.
A plan set by a madman – logistics in place
Still they followed the words – superior
Extermination …

While hoping for a piece of bread,
dreaming of a drop of water.
Babies and children clinging to their mothers
men crying in pain – the beatings.
Men first, women and children last,
walk the ramp of destiny.
Annihilation of a race deemed – impure …
“Delousing here: Lice kill”
Cleanliness is needed to work our fields,
build our shelters, dig our ditches …
False hopes on a final walk,
Typhus spreading like a blanket … suffocating …
lies and coverups, pretending it’s not real
(inside the camp)
As gas is released they took their
last breaths … shortly after smoke rises
from a chimney and spreads throughout
the land

river of stones #5

last breath … a doctor
signs the death certificate

"tak and nie" big tent poetry #35-a poem with a foot or feet in it

If you lay out the meters
side by side
so we may have feet
I think the moon has died …
Obscurity outlines me
centimeters become meters – the lost moon
Persistence of sounds echo
Never to cast a silhouette
As an overcast sky hides my shadow

He'll be watching ... poets united thursday think tank #30-observation

Crouched in a tower,
observing the misguided below.
Snarling with teeth bared,
he licks his lips wanting new flesh.
“Idiots” he says to no-one …

Lying in the streets in worn-out clothes
memories clasped to his chest.
A child cries somewhere in an abandoned field.
Hunger is encapsulating the exterior,
grasping at the line of life’s support.
Threadbare and falling to pieces,
disintegrating hopes as people scurry.
Advertisements of youth, (it can be bought)
Shed the weight of abusive gorging …
Slender figures of maidens –  smiling.
Comfort for the unseen but worthy ones,
like ants crawling all over each other
reciting over and over:
“I will tread on you to get what is mine”

river of stones #4

water flows in a stream,
to wash away the firelight …