Skip to main content

Morning News



I was alive during those days.
Those days were dark, but no one noticed because of the haze.
We all walked on the sidewalk, we all drove on the street.
We all watched TV, we all used air conditioning to avoid the heat.
But, we were killing babies, we were killing babies.

I survived those days.
Those unpleasant sunrises, they gave way to sunsets.
We all laughed at jokes, we all ate hot dogs with ketchup.
We all danced to the music, we all washed our dirty dishes.
But, we were killing babies, we were killing babies.

I remember those days.
They can't ever be forgotten, despite my best efforts, those days were certain.
We all woke up one morning, we all made our beds after waking.
Poured some orange juice, read the morning news.
What was it saying?
We are killing babies, we are killing babies.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Bought

Anthem of heaven incased in this CD on the market. A devotion song reformed to a green collection in his pocket. Culture how it has sought us! Taken our reverence and bought us! Worship sowing designer clothes for the artist. Melodies in bondage begin to simulate the masses. We have the radio to blare the repeat. Give us our fame and retreat This noise of adoration motivates a half hearted beat on the steering wheel. We can no longer own the heart and we can’t preach our message. We are just a copy of a man’s heart once spilled to His maker given over to another to do as he so pleases. We are bought. Owned. I want to work on this one. It seems a little hard to follow. I want it to be concrete and to the point but still lyrical. Any comments or suggestions?
2 comments
Read more

Shy Suicide

Disclaimer: This poem was inspired by someone else's struggle with suicide. Don't worry I am not suicidal. Suicide, why do you hide beneath my white skin? Suicide, why do use my fake smile for your sin? Suicide, why do you keep your cover until the rope is tight, the trigger is pulled, the pills are swallowed, the wrists slit? A black phantom behind my face. A dark word behind my lips. A night in my day. Suicide, why do you ensnare all my companions? They didn’t know. They didn’t see. They didn’t recognize who had overtaken me. You left a message on paper; they read in disbelief. Suicide, you are shy, and yet you have the audacity to kill me.
4 comments
Read more

Glorious Grey

 Glorious grey with your thematic expectations and sudden revelations. Many depend on your bland expression, hoping for a hidden salvation. Are you a subtle manipulator or a passive observer? Your color may not be color, making your theme perplexing. Glorious grey don't pollute the clear water. We find you in ash, rain clouds, and cement. Calling you neutral may not be correct.
Post a Comment
Read more