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 Feb 19
Francie Lynch
I awaken mornings feeling upbeat,
Praying my prayers set like concrete.
But No!
This repetitive routine has no soul.

Perhaps I'm praying wrong.
Perhaps He prefers a song,
A Hallelujah chorus
To **** of the Anti-Christ.
(but the Creature lives... it ***** up all our hopes).

I'll pray again tonight:

Now I lay me down to sleep.
And pray that God won't willfully keep
That blakened spot he calls his soul,
Dispatched to Hell for our repose
.
Die.
 Nov 2023
Francie Lynch
Those red-hat doffers
Are the blood-thinning vermin.
Stop.
 Nov 2023
the dirty poet
another day of israel
digging its own grave
their strategy of dead kids
is a real winner
of course
hamas keeps insisting
it wants to wipe out israel
a handy excuse
for more dead kids
 Oct 2023
Francie Lynch
They flip like flapjacks,
Sizzlin' on heat;
They flip like a light switch,
The rats,
The finks,
The stools,
The snitches.

How many will get told tonight:

     Y'll sleep wi da fisches.
      That'll school you alright.
.
Always use good lures.
 Oct 2023
L B
Halloween at Camp LeJuene

So those storage tanks
the ads of late-night-- all talkin' about
some thirty-five years a-leaking like...
some aplastic benzene-apocryphal river

Horror!
tastes like chemo Kool Aide
forever in the mouth
washing over parade route
seeping into boots and wombs
of cadets who can't hear the music
over a child's laughter-- ever

over failing livers
lined up like lawyers marching
onto glyphosate green
to Parkinsonian cheers
to Taps-solos echoeimg off the stone-
of mind and memory

Flags!
Flapping-angry!

“No (wo)man left behind
on the multiple ways to myeloma
Miscarriages
of justice!

A silence waiting

an eternity
of tiny infant cries
emptying....
into Love Canal

There will be...
NO JUSTICE!

Only billions set aside
for funeral-ic devastation

“Significant compensation”
--being read in a woman's face
in a woman's voice

“...suffering from any of these....
after drinking the water at Camp Le Juene”

at the hands-down
heads-turned
greased palms of

     silence

being owned
by military-corpporate
“channels”
of secrecy

...of Pharma-to-government
medical-backwaters
laundered to-governments
of banana republics

Mercenery chemicals
Medicine with missile launchers
strewn
among military over-runs of...
…of high power rifles,
night goggles, and F-15s

What am I missing here?

...about the rubbery clots and myocarditis?
Has it finally come round to us?

How could I not see!

not recall?
How many years ago--
since I could hear?

the rapid fire!
“The toxic Leaks!”

“...suffered from any of these...”
...feeding tube terrors
Time's tumors
downgrade to errors
deferred...
Now beside the grief as amputees
--take the field of parade
While Misplaced Rage
pages through abortions of blame
in the chemical caldron
where they ****, shower, and shave

...then towel-dry their babies

or not....

Where are the rapid-fire rats and bats
when we need 'em?

Semper Fi!
And your neck is the dawn... 
And your neck is the dawn...
I will put your clothes on you;
  The call to prayer is raised;
I've woven the new adhan for you...
Like all your stories
And your shoes, my son...
All the buzz of branches and grape leaves are in your eyes...
And I will kiss...
All the white buds of sambac jasmine...
All the red buds of sambac jasmine...
From your heart...
your legs,
your arms,
Become golden...
The bud of the claw of your larynx turns green...
And your neck is
The tall white palm...
Your neck is the long rainbow...
For the butterfly to come through the walls...
For the coming of my flesh into your voice...
و گردن ات صُبح است...
و گردن ات صُبح است...
پیراهن ات را تن ات مي کنم
صدای اذان بلند مي شود...
اذاني نو برای تو بافته ام
مثلِ تمامِ قصه هایت
و کَفش هایت پسرِ من...
همهمه ی شاخه ها و برگ های انگور
در چشم هایت...
مي بوسَم...
غنچه های سفید رازقي را
غنچه های سُرخ رازقي را
از روی قَلب ات...
ساقِ پاهایت
بازو دست هایت
طلایي می شوند...
جوانه های پنجه يِ حنجره ات
سبز مي شود...
و گردن ات
نخل هایِ سفیدِ مریمي بلند...
رنگین کمان هایي بلند...
برای آمدن پروانه از میان دیوارها
برای آمدن جسمِ من در صدآءِ تو
Three white doves sitting still
No use flying now
Danger everywhere.
Waiting.
HOPE….

Child,
sitting in the cellar,
crying.
Mothers,
sitting numb,  
praying for LOVE….
Men,
shooting guns
throwing bombs.
For PEACE….



Shell ✨🐚
Hope- Love - Peace will get us through life.
It’s ironic that we fight for peace.
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