Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Mothers' Night

Mothers' Night
cascading shards 
echoes falling 
"It's our calling." 

Rape of Earth, 
hot spurts of words 
savage knives 
Abiding Mothers, 
sacred and mundane 
twist into harridan 
cold stars 

wail, hurtling waves 
Sad, old, crust of ages 
sliced, screwed, carved up for profit 
"It's not the color of the skin, 
the culture of the smile" 

the scent of danger, 
the inborn stranger -- 
all excuses for Us (superior) 
and Them (inferior) 
"They are not like we; 
but lower curs." 
we may harm with unfettered glee 

Cursed to be cut to our requirement. 
Borders clear 
"Here, fear fences in 
our livelihood and wives." 
Leave THEM to putrid pits 
cunning jabs, 
our pleasure. 

Thus, all treasure that might regale, 
heal, reveal true worth, 
of man and Earth 
sold for pittance of potash 
to dance a weary jig 

May 10, 2010

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