VOTE OUT THE GUILTY AND ENABLERS

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Innocent
Blood, Stains
The Hands And
Soul Of America’s Wanna-Be
Dictator

Victims
Call Out
From The Grave
Crying, “Vote Out The
Guilty

Honor
The Victims
With Your Vote,
Vote Out All The
Enablers

Copyright © 2020 Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet
All Rights Reserved – 10-04-2020 – 04:30 a.m.

Tens Of Thousands Of Innocent Victims Have Suffered
And Died Of Covid-19, Needlessly,  As A Result Of President Trump’s
Intentional Hiding Of The Truth About The Dangers Of The Corona Virus From The American Public, As Proved In His Own Words, On Tape.

The Victims Cry Out From The Grave For Justice, For The Protection Of Others By Voting The Guilty And Their Enablers Out Of Office!!

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THE THRILL OF WRITING

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I Hear The Rhythm
Of My Pulse Beating
Between My Ears
As I Tap, Tap, Tap The Keys

Blood on their Hands

First published on http://www.fleetingmuse.wordpress.com on March 12, 2018

Behind the hearty laughter
Lurked depression sinister
As everyone looks for an answer
After the terrible disaster
What were the missed signs
Was this part of a design

HAIKU: BLOOD ON GUN MONEY

BY CHARLES ROBERT LINDHOLM

BLOOD ON GUN MONEY

HAIKU: AN ACCOMPLICE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

How Long, Oh, How Long

The Alchemist

my past is a dark

ominous cave

that i mine

full of barbed wire

broken glass

rusty metal and

unexploded landmines

I Cry in Hearts

i cry in hearts

they fall into

my open palms

slipping gently between

my cupped fingers

Blood One

Bloodworm of my heart you feed on
Bloodmeal, bloody meat, tarantulas whose bodies
Sing in whistles whilst they smoke and die.

As a mahogany seed you birthed into the bloodwood tree,
Your bloodline a thin, red ribbon, crossing over the moor.

Blood: An Acrostic

Bleeding out, pools of rich liquid, red.
Lying here on the floor, I am cold, I am broken.
Only I know what happened
Over here in the dark. Please
Don’t leave me alone now…

© Emily Page

The Blood

The blood,

The hours

They spill

So quiet,

So quick.

Release

Photo from Cow girl dairies

Drip, drip, drip warm wet release.

It oozes out of me

Painful frozen squeeze please.

Stop the bloody pain.

Innocuous Knife

Grasping its hilt, gauging its weight; a knife.
Innocuous use or extinguish life?
Slicing and dicing through the skin and flesh,
carving and cleaving through the meat and bone.
Get your hands dirty in the oozing mess
discard of the pieces into the fire.
Grasping its hilt, gauging its weight; a knife.

The Complexity of Death

i.
The nauseating consistence
of vertical chrome-lemon lines
racing my mind to the stoplight,
should’ve been proof enough
-a warning.

ii.
Jagged velvet-toned crystals
highlight cracks in asphalt
around white vignettes.

Metal.
Everywhere.

iii.
Looking down
through cracked spectacles
at despondencey:
I’m wishing that I too
could underline
the spiderwebbing blemish
of perfection;
the complexity of death…
simplified.

Poem: Always.

You are always

in my heart

my reason for living

The Girl with no Name.

 

Heart strings taught,

Each finger strums a gut wrenching pang.

Voids are limitless,

Screams are deafening.

Black shadows crowd deserted hall ways.

My loneliness clings to every surface.

I’m drowning in my own pool of doubt.

pretending — poem

sometimes, I still remember….

She pretended that she loved me
We both pretended that we cared
Ignored the subtle truth by daylight
There was little that we shared

I wrote of fire and passion
She responded with her dares
She modeled flesh and blood and fashion
Yet we found scant comfort there

Heart.

So i decided to not wear my
heart on my sleeve again.

You taught me that lesson,
the hard way.