a broken prisoner
back bent like an old willow
skin as rough as bark
believed restorative justice
society’s rejection
© 2017, poem and illustration, Charles W. Martin
Project Tag: Charles W Martin
postponed awareness . . .
when the sun
forgets to rise
will men open
their closed eyes
just in time to see
their demise
© 2017, Charles W. Martin
off course evolution
carthage
uninhabited
angkor
uninhabited
tikal
uninhabited
petra
uninhabited
pompeii
uninhabited
the great zimbabwe
uninhabited
memphis
uninhabited
earth
© 2017, Charles W. Martin
death by committee
the end
prolonged climate change dialogues
with rehearsed government denials
as earth dies
© 2017, Charles W. Martin
basement dwellers… | Charles W. Martin
the view
from the basement
hasn’t changed
i can
still
only see
how
footprints
are made
not
who
really
makes them
nor
why
some movements
are
so erratic
as to
engender panic
from
those
of us
looking up
from the basement
i must admit
that
i prefer
those who walk
with
sure
confident steps
that are
well measured
it gives one
a sense
of hope
that
the basement door
will someday
be unlocked
and
we’ll
get a chance
to view
what’s really
going on
up there
the merchant of lies | Charles W. Martin
truth buried alive
rings the graveside bell for help
but greed’s songs of joy
hush the safety coffin’s pleas
shylocks dance upon truth’s grave
© 2017, Charles W. Martin
translucent… | Charles W. Martin
lies too often heard
like bread cast upon waters
call us to believe
but evil deeds multiple
benefiting the lair
© 2017, Charles W.Martin
red tipped canes | Charles W. Martin
words
are rarely
clear
they’re more often
translucent
especially
when dealing
with
issues of humanity
no one
wants to be seen
as
a villain
so
the murder
of mothers
is concealed
in
the opaque protection
of
an unborn child
by
a barren minded wanna-be-saint
whose
religious infection
results
in more deaths
than
lifes
but their
cataract vision
of
god’s words
lets them
strike their white cane
of
intolerance
into the womb
on
a defenseless woman
all in the name
of
a god
that does not
have
them
on
the entry list
© 2017, Charles W. Martin
ain’t no wonder | Charles W Martin
the brown bag prophet
said
a jury
can watch
a
police video
of
a rogue cop
shooting
an unarmed black man
point
blank
and
the jury
will
argue
for days
about
the validity
of
the evidence
and
then
end up with
a
hung
jury
it’s
no wonder
the current
white house
feels
it can do anything
it wants
and
still maintain
popular support
even
if it kills
a bunch
of
them
point-blank
unconcealed | Charles W Martin
counting names again
names inscribed on marble walls
fallen heroes’ walls
where war’s truth is really found
along with uncounted tears
having found a stone in my shoe …
i’ve begun
to wonder
if hate
does not
permanently
dye
the soul
the color
of
dried blood
our
words
of forgiveness
to those
who’ve
wronged
us
are
but
pilate washing
his hands
all the while
a thin veil
of flesh
conceals
what lies
within
a darkness
that
spews
from our lips
gaseous words
of venom
when
passing
troubadours
wishing
only
to write
songs
of enlightenment
press
too tightly
upon
the fragile flesh
of
our
beliefs
and
fears
thus revealing
that
inert
element
hidden
in our souls
© 2017, Charles W. Martin
healing hands …
aunt bea
hasn’t been
feeling well
this week
her sister
suggested
that a visit
to a local faith healer
might not be
such a bad idea
aunt bea
said
some folks
don’t need
to go to church
to find god’s healing hands
all you got to do
she said
is open your eyes
look around
at
the wonders
of
nature
the art
created
without
one
human hand
a doorway
to
the heavens
above your head
filled
with a thousand
angel’s eyes at night
and
a thousand hymns
of joy
from birds
with light’s
first peek
into the new day
it’s laying
of
god’s hands
upon
the troubled waters
for
souls
seeking
something more
than
institutionalized
amens
and
hallelujahs
© 2017, poem and illustration, Charles W. Martin
luke 10:25-37…
for some
just
stones
neatly stacked
along
the riverside
but
for a few
an alter
from which
inner peace
flows
into
souls
abandoned
alongside the road
a stone parable
left
no doubt
by
a travelling
good samaritan
© 2017, poem and illustration, Charles W. Martin, All rights reserved
patriarichal wounds …
joan of arc statue
touchstone for abused women
healing fear’s deep wounds
© 2017, peom and illustration, Charles W. Martin
PTSD Children
when the fear of war
in the night grasps a child’s heart
hymns of love are sung
© 2017, Charles W. Martin
letting my freak flag fly
letting-my-freak-flag-fly
i was talking
with aunt bea
about
a demonstration
on
the
illegitimate presidency
of trump
how a group
of us
were headed
downtown
next week
to stand in solidarity
against
washington criminals
aunt bea
said
it’s
so easy
to resist
and
rebel
when others
walk beside you
but
the real resistance
is
when you
stand alone
either
in the voting booth
or
in your
personal decisions
to
defy
and
address
the wrongs
that stand
before
you
© Charles W. Martin
the poet’s prescription
i am
bathing
in the words
of poets
washing away
the ash
of
hate
that
floats
all about
cleansing
my soul
from
this loathing
that
clings
upon
the world’s skin
a pandemic
disease
pervasive
and
rampant
leaving
many dead already
and
more to die
if
we cannot
prevail
and
inoculate ignorance
with
the wisdom
of
words
© poem & illustration, Charles W. Martin
re: your account
our accounting department
has contacted you numerous times
regarding your account
for example
on all your birthdays
right after your graduation
from college
your first christmas alone
we even sent you postcards
during staff vacations
a policy not normal
but in your case
we made an exception
this is your final notice
but you need not respond
we have determined that you
were a bad investment
so we’re writing your debt off
this is just our way of saying
this
friendship
is over
don’t bother to call
the account
is closed
© Charles W. Martin, poem and illustration
The BeZine 