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Image for the poem .:O

.:O'borta:.

 
 
 
here or there  
somewhere behind or  
in a dumpster or  
some other place; this  
this is the darkest of space
a place for the gone; the departed
renamed hall of ‘no’ empathy  
absent of sympathy the apathy
this is the void one sees  
one way or another  
secure in always being supported
sometimes sense is aborted  
life distorted; put to rest  
the definition of the un-blessed
or are they just a test, no longer here  
all by way of the devil’s errant handy work  
outcomes of a too quick knee-jerk
the patient, they only “look” patient
emptiness; the gathering of flesh
done in by practitioners of this image
hardly ever, never a scrimmage  
the manifestation of a complete death  
with surety; an end of breath
certainly each spirit crying out  
describing precisely what's  
supposedly unfelt by the senses  
the aftermath of missed menses  
the sacrifice with its shaping  
the reshaping of a life’s reality  
done in completely with  
sharpened tools  
instruments of a post-modernity  
the defense; it has…no paternity  
yet weapons are wielded so accurately  
so effectively by the pros & cons of choice  
calling themselves saved cells; stems
stubbornly stopped; the propping up of
mankind's indiscretions  
by-products of faulty miss-directions  
this is the currently conclusive circumstance  
albeit an invalid stance; creation-evolution
the situation of ‘man- kinda- being- taken- out’
this for sometime has been disposal without reversal  
where only a revised history is a “thing” of perfection  
or is this all; this whole thing just an illusion?  
the sharp thorn of the pessimist?  
hardcore metaphor for the blackened rose  
one that bloomed but, too bad
the assumptions made…so sad  
sorrowful the injustice; the balance & fairness  
it just won’t come along; perceived as an “all wrong”  
still we celebrate the festive lifestyle of
Venus & Mars; those infinite rocks, the stars  
yet the next life; a situation that’s too uptight
continuing to go in & out of orbit  
never running out of obits; obituaries  
frequently are the unannounced  sanctuaries
planned and fanned out in the hood  
the greater good; selfishly taking sides in the  
sizing up the here & now
somebody go ahead and say “Oh wow”  
for this is not at all right; left weary and
left on its own by an apathetic and  
callous society; this is a world craving sobriety  
where insanity permits no extension of family  
all relevant attachments deleted  
parental advisement; one, maybe two  
they’re left defeated, babies on empty door steps
here – there…they are no longer needed  
just the preponderance of the paperwork  
the formal view a thing really abnormal  
yet casually concurring with the outcomes  
the benign glitter of ballpoints & stained scalpels
another bit of newness to cut & claim as zero
who knows? might’ve been a hero
this miscarriage of “just us”  
wrong routes taken not realizing  
real lives are at stake  
as humanity’s earth...it quakes  
each time another life; everyday so different  
muted voices supporting uncontested choices  
the despondent host & hostesses  
over & over making decisions
quantum leaps calling them revisions
unsuppressed the test; another life started  
only to become the desperately discarded
the almost, now of the numerically departed
showing & telling how it won't belong  
another sad song sung by guardian angels  
muted, the quiet chorus singing silently  
on & on the conclusions reached so violently with  
nothing else left to say...not much  
those intrusions that arrive blind; sightless
why can’t we fight this? these acts re-
[in]sulting in these thick bunches & bundles of  
ill conceived absolutes; no mercy from the “suits”  
they’re just the scandalmongers in this game  
the same game orchestrated to bury facts  
the methodology; how it conducts the attacks  
fake life forms cutting out another life...severed  
prevented from going even a short distance  
meeting no resistance wherein any likeness  
it’s just a shortness of breath; shortened  
by its own death leaving the witnesses  
the ones who see & say less
 
 
 
...

photo: lilea duran                             
                                                            
Written by kriticool
Published | Edited 29th Nov 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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