days of drought
catch the rain in a jar
each drop precious
price of admission
turn fresh produce into weeds
I continue to read ridiculous reports of fights for water in California. I drive through the Central Valley and see new vineyards cropping up and the dairy industry, walnut, almond, pistachio orchards along with fresh produce (that supply a nation) are being killed. A nation’s stupidity cannot feed her people.
I am but a worm on this leaf
I look upon two sides of the world
she is a beauty
full of life, a treasure
fanning hope and peace
he is a devil
piercing the sky with pain
injustice and anger
are his middle name
I am but a worm on this leaf
“In matters of truth and justice, there is no difference between large and small problems, for issues concerning the treatment of people are all the same.”
“But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people.”
The prompt for Poets United Midweek Motif is Justice or Poetic Justice. I will take poetic license and give a voice to the worm.
Photograph: Rose called ‘Peace‘
Beauty of Baltimore
Luz last night the hellioned beast raised its ugly head in NewCago.
The gangs have unleashed their secret weapon.
They circled the opportunity like a predator for months
Fires are burning all over NewCago and there are just too few good people to put them out.
Those who had a job have one no longer.
Most have lost their meager possessions.
Young men are empowered with hatred.
The police are behind their iron clad doors.
Leaders had their speeches prepared in advance.
Hearts have gone AWOL.
…and if I don’t find a way to extinguish these flames, NewCago will be nothing but ashes.
“Life in NewCago” is a fictional series. The protagonist, Sam, is trying to restore a city run by gangsters and most of the people helping Sam are dead. There’s not much a single individual can do to put out the flames even if he can’t be killed.
Baltimore, a city that I love dearly, is in a shambles today. Fortunately, there are community heroes who are trying to calm the heat. May those who care about their city prevail.
This is a rather sobering post for the letter X. I want to thank the A to Z Challenge coordinators for this month of blogging.
Photography: Baltimore by L. Moon
Some bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge:
Chilled by the hawk’s distant cry
unwelcome wings on the horizon
life threatening wind approaches
I need no eagle eye
Frozen by the headlines
man sharpens cold steel
children trying their hand
paralyzed beyond my spine
Motionless I await
this storm front from Hell
sensible is lost in radical thought
people plead at heaven’s gate
Child beheads a Syrian captive. Is this what our world wants 8-year-old children to do in their spare time????
Boys in all countries (including the US ) are indoctrinated as young as 8 to be gang members (which would include rape, drug dealing, killing). A patient of mine was 5 when he joined his gang.
Man opens his mouth and words result
making mighty his lofty claims
as he pontificates and struts
self-edification his primary aim
the ruler of this world so petty
the rich so powerful and “right”
we worship what is sexually pretty
the poor and lowly we despise
hold a ball where you stand
juggle it with two others
gather and clasp a small hand
put aside your druthers
turn the balls now inside out
see where a smile grows
it is in the weakest things
beauty’s goodness overflows
here’s a right we all possess
if we open up our hearts
look not to grandiose emptiness
sacrificial love a good place to start
“Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute. Open your mouth, judge righteously, defend the rights of the poor and needy.”
Prov 31:8 & 9
Today’s prompt at Poets United is Human Right’s Day
While you pen in ink
I am writing this down in blood
dipping my quill in life spent
that’s still steamy
from the day’s killing
I am not a writer of fiction
these words are fact
I write what I see
a building full of people
the doors are chained from the outside
the henchmen smile
they love the sound of terror
gasoline and fire such a beautiful sight
one of the black garbed men taunts
flinging the red tongues
the flames lick higher and higher
extinguishing life, hope, dreams
the joke is on you
with each life you dispel
the darkness on the outside
claims what was good on the inside
the wraith will have no home
nothing to claim
flames will consume his soul
…And we just sit back while innocent people who live life quietly are being targeted losing their homes, herded like cattle and killed.
The number of people
remaining in my family
who are alive
days ago they buried mother
all I saw was a bag
no one her age has survived
dead trees left of my village
warning of departed spirits
the only voices you hear
Down the hallway, behind closed doors
you will find a ward of untended people
laying in their own waste I fear
Is the age I was at my last birthday
no one knows if I will see my sixth
Does anyone care if I die?
I was sickened to read about the treatment of dying men, women and children at ground zero for Ebola. Half a year ago, the CDC and WHO excused away a virus that killed 70-90% of it’s victims. When isolation could have kept the death toll in the 100s, commerce took precedence. The lack of action and ambivalence has resulted in unnecessary death and disaster in West Africa.