MIDDLE OF NOWHERE
You hear the voice
Of a black crow calling
Like a has-been chanteuse
In a run-down cafe
As you leave and walk
Down deserted streets
Under an overcast sky
Like a burial shroud
To purchase a ticket
On a one-way train
To a place where you
Can become someone else
But it’s all sold out
So you return to your room
Where a black crow is calling
Like a voice singing just for you
SUSTENANCE
For some life’s hunger
Is an unending quest
To find things to buy
Filling a void inside
That long ago lost
The need for people
Whose portraits on a shelf
Sit gathering dust
But for others it’s the faces
Of family and friends
That wake up their hearts
Like a cathedral’s bells
For each one is a sunbeam
Piercing the shadows
The conquerors of death
The candles in the dark
NECROPOLIS
A distant siren howls
Like a wounded beast
Chained to itself
As old men inch by
On streets that used
To belong to them
While the morning sun
Hesitates to rise
As if it is afraid
To reveal a world
Moving in reverse
Like a broken clock
And as people begin
To consider bombs
More beautiful than roses
They watch their children
Playing in dirt
Passing like dreams
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