“ My Septembers ” ~ for a time beguiled ~

It seems a long long while

Since my first September,

When I was but a child

With little to remember,

Would for a time beguile

What mind found render,

Bar be time on my hands

Allowed youth meander,

To later years September

Till too soon understands

A day there’ll be no other,

For life assured ill stands

Save to reach life closure,

Tho not a very long while

Measures the meagre stead,

From first steps to immobile

Held borders bland to dead,

Said be last of my Septembers!

“ The Mass ” ~ killing of minds ~

Of sanguinary incline

Whole of man be alas,

Found so unreachable

To celebrate the mass

Killing of man’s mind,

Hence to spur appetite

In amount meant bind,

With ferocity held light

As to scorn mindfulness

Of insatiable self serve,

Tho it destroys mankind…

 

Ever wile inner monster

Of man readily persists,

In fixing soul be blind

To his power gone amiss,

Yet demands full assign

Of his tempestuous controls,

Tho man’s dead mind matter

Ignores a bent reach for disaster!

 

“ The Mind ” ~ of a voiceless child ~

Looking to hide

In a ravaged crowd,

Where war has him bide

In rag-torn shrouds,

For all that be left

Of this voiceless child,

Be a mind bereft

Feeling cast aside,

In a torturous tide

Of victims’ loud cries,

As dead bodies fall

From gory guns bane

Of spent soldiers insane,

That no longer recall

Were once poets near all,

Now brain-damaged mob

Be creatures caballed

Who follow a broken god,

Said maker of orphans

Who find shelter in rubble,

A place they’d once called home!

                                                                           ode to war orphaned children

“ In Time ” ~ a timeless pit ~

Where do I find,
Hopeful in time,
That gentle face
Lost to my mind,
Forces me look
In wonted place,
Tho I now dread
Be uncaring gods
Of darkness spent,
Who feed in hell
Their fickle bent,
Want but inflict
Disordered spells
Held pitiless fit,
Would demean fate
Of ones mental state,
Living in a timeless pit!