what is happening

has the earth fallen
off its rotation
leaning on the edge
of oblivion

has the sun died
burnt out
like an exhausted
light bulb

has the moon imploded
crumbled
fallen to dust

I realize not

and yet

the world seems askew
out of sync

I can't find an answer
it's out of reach
beyond an eternity

my mind can't fathom
can't comprehend

my thoughts are confined
within this realm

and so
it continues

the earth spins
the sun shines
the moon exists

and I wonder

There’s a writer on the block
  Inspiration’s on vacation
Gone on tour with culture shock
  Desperately seeking a situation
Far from the incessant ticking clock
  
Words are flowing like glue
Sniffed but so unwritten
The scent of inspiration flew
Southwards and unsmitten
By paucity’s shallow written hue

Heavy as leaden thought can be
The vacant empty page
Stares blank in mirrors at me
The mocking unwrit rage
A parallel universe in a vacant sea

A world of solid silent inertia
  Invades the imagination
And dulls the poetic drama
Each page gauged in vexation
Such a perfect portrait of a tabula rasa

The origami of crushed paper
A testament to frustration
And a tsunami of written failure
Mocks the myth of imagination
Reducing it to an unremembered feature

And then the keyboard sweetly sings
The ink is beautiful flowing time
While the percussive alphabet rings
The wine soaked harmonies of rhyme
Sweetening the song that poetry always brings.

Anybody listening?
Gunshots sound
children fall
bullets fly

down crowded halls

families wail,
               families cry

for their loved ones dead
their loved ones gone

             ...yet life goes on

shouts of terror
screams of fear
this time eight (?) are dead

don't they hear?

shot in the heart
shot in the head

they're dead,
               they're gone

...yet life goes on

prayers and condolences
such empty words
sent by our leaders
                     ...afterwards

after they're dead,
                  after they're gone

and life goes on

don't see,
            don't hear,
                        don't speak
like the symbolic three

"It's not the time to talk"
Good god, when will it be?

Too late when they're gone
                       ...and your lives go on!