Boy Migrant

Boy Migrant

He haunts me
A young boy
Mid teens
A lad like mine
Seen on the news bulletin

Peace

And maybe peace is not
A bilateral talk in an air-conditioned room
With high security to defend the privileged
It is the perpetual sorrow and spirit of warring men
And women, their numbers dwindling like a waning crescent

Ordinarily Upset

Fashion

designs to distract

coveted fabrics delight the eyes

no sooner are the wise

Advertisement

Beggar woman’s Tirade

Photo, Ishithaa.com

What are you staring at?

My face or my state?

I’m ashamed of neither,

so carry on, unabated!

Our worlds madness.

Posted for Teasy.

We live in a world gone mad
Yet again someone causes pain
In a faraway land
Once called the land of the free
Where  seekers of a  new life steps, did flee
Who wants to remove a whole race
Pain, hurt or suffering is not yours to give at will
Nor take the life of innocents make one a man

Poetry challenge 3: The Other Half.

Posted for PO3TIC

“….and see how the other half live”
is all i heard her say
I wasn’t listening as usual
I detest the awful way
the corners of her mouth
curl up while she’s talking
the atrocious butchering
of the simplest of words
my irritation grows to anger
at each painful mispronunciation
of nouns, adjectives and verbs
what other half does she mean
is this another one of her
self righteous rants on poverty
words fly so fast from her mouth

Striking the Blues

Iconic charming history,

repeats the sad refrain,

as, once more, we get screwed over,

we sing along again;

the blues echo a doleful tune,

and strike the same discord,

man mines the depths of misery,