Planet Fear

Here on planet fear,
if we see something,
we say something.
Here on planet fear,
our ears are open wide.

For all that we hold dear,
we throw our billions
at box knives.
"Better there than here"
while we let here rot inside.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Choices

The doctor's voice
start-stutter-stops
like a malformed heart

that failed to twist . . .
form walls . . .
at your age and with . . .
the medications you take . . .
all organs compromised, all . . .

I wait

for him to start-stutter-stop
like the malformed heart
struggling for its beat inside me;
I ask,

what choices do I have?

Proper as God with a gun, he says
you don't.

For Bjorn's prompt at Real Toads

I've done some heavy editing of this piece since I first posted it.  The original wasn't getting its point across, I fear.  Perhaps I've done a better job with this version.  We shall see . . .

Legs

Legs dangle
in the water

pale petals
of flowers

rooted
to the dock

where the boys are

For Victoria's imagism prompt at dVerse

Circus In A Hearse

Piled my circus in a hearse
cause clown cars are for funerals.
Taxis are for city girls,
and the bus don't run this far.
I let the lion drive.
Leopard's got a lead foot.
I'm halfway out the window
navigating by the stars.

Open up my circus tent
outside the city limits.
I like my normal at a distance
with money in both hands.
Housewife with a ticket.
Lawyer with a fetish.
They like peeking through the keyhole
and cheering in the stands

till the band
plays
them back to Main Street.

Pack up my circus tent.
Make one last stop for coffee.
Watch the clerk watching us -
he thinks he knows the kind we are.
Gonna let the monkey drive.
Bear can't work a stick shift.
I'll take my turn at the state line,
Lord, if we get that far.

Navigating
and always chasing
after stars.

For Susie's prompt at Real Toads.  Hope this isn't too much of a stretch.

Note: One of my poems was selected as a Runner Up in the Shiny Poetry Competition.  You can read it here (it's the second poem).

Remedy

I made a resolution
to find a remedy for war,
to consult with all the experts,
to knock on every door,
and beg from them a remedy,
demand from them a remedy
for the killing and the dying,
the grieving and the crying.

First I asked a politician
wrapped tight in the flag.
He claimed we need a bigger stick
to beat the dangerous back.
Strength's the only remedy
understood by the enemy;
bomb the bastards - done!
Bomb the bastards till we've won.

The old general was reluctant
to agree or disagree.
He said he's just an instrument,
a sword another swings.
But he's seen death - no remedy.
He's ordered death - no remedy.
Now his eyes are haunted
by ghosts he never wanted.

Still there was this crazy name
all the leaders threw around,
and desperate for an answer,
I finally tracked it down.
Turns out Jesus was a hippie freak
who taught to turn the other cheek,
who taught the only remedy
for war
is peace.

For Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Courage