A word on healthcare
I thought I saw the best in you
but you brought out the worst in me
I thought you were what I wanted
but you were nothing near what I needed
love and infatuation are two different things
and obviously we weren't on the same page
I was the front page headline
and you were in the comics
your games and lies that made me cry
now lie in the obituaries
just like my feelings for you
The world watches you fall,
the largest proven oil reserves
but you couldn’t call out to your brothers
acknowledge your mistake
so that you may grow.
You **** children,
hunger grips every mother
and fathers struggle with
children of eight trying to earn a wage.
Your country is ****** up
holding it pride to its chest
waving the flag never admitting that
their force has killed eight thousand
or that their children are in hospitals
Kenyerber Aquino Merchán,
less than two starved to death
because hospitals have no formula
to feed the innocent.
Spine and rib cage protruding,
mourners with wildflowers from the hills,
and relatives cut out a pair
of cardboard wings from
empty white ration boxes.
Let you pass away,
sleeping now under my wings,
we’ll conger the wind
and ease the president's pride,
he is hiding under the cover
cowering the corner -
he has no one else to blame.
I broke down in tears writing this - I wrote it because of this article https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/12/17/world/americas/venezuela-children-starving.html - I don't know how to help because the president refuses to accept international help apart from loans from Russia which barely hold the country a float. So I did the only thing I know how to do to help - write.
news paper pages
scatter along a ***** wind
some caught in fences separating
some free to climb into the forever of
deep blue sky pure sunshine
washed clean of the sins printed on its page
only photographs remain
a black & white image of the old man
feeding pigeons along the empty path
that lead him there
news paper pages
forever silently burning in a collapse of worlds
so old the smoke has died away
pages with masterful words written
never finding lips to uncage their meaning
a beauty of phrase that has never faded
a chain link barrier between what its
long dead author spoke eloquently
and the world disguised by years of dead dust
only photographs remain
a faded image of an old man
walking the sunset
a scattering of bread crumb's
stretching back along his trail
leading not into the living sky
forever shifting between dark and light
but into the dusty caverns of twilight
by candle light
he will pour over the things he never spoke
wishing only for a voice once more
a way to tell her
about all those yesterdays ago
the why's and whatnot's
that he fiddles with
like wooden toys ever more finely crafted
never to knowing play
never to escape the gathering dust
here he sits
in his comfy chair
tea and biscuits gone cold
and his lips ****** with gentle care
words written on discarded news paper pages
like bread crumbs scattered for
birds that never come
© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
Are these light rays
Making me uncomfortable?
Hard to wake up early
Hate to be awake early
All I'll have to do is get clean
And search for happiness
Why the newspapers worry me?
Early in the morning, I'd read
On the first page, controversies
Deaths and accidents, black news
Where did the psychologists go?
Get me stronger every dawn
Just to be happy and energetic every morning
I read the news today...
He recounted accidents, wars, ***-holes.
I did too... today.
I read about charity runs,
Music under the Bluewater Bridge,
Teachers receiving National Awards.
There are many sections to the paper
I read through my wire-rimmed glasses.
I'm getting older, all the time,
So I avoid the nastiness with my morning coffee.
Is killing terrorists good news?
What would John read into that.
We need some help!
I may skip the news tomorrow,
And make some holes
To let the light in,
The darkness out.
six o'clock, every morning
on its way since the dawn was yawning
meant for you as long as you pick it up
made for the spot beside your teacup
I don’t wanna listen!
it was nice and all that
but my heart broke along the way and
three of its chambers are flooded.
no handy man can fix it now.
me and you.. IT don’ work!
it’s not an oxymoron, nor an enigma ! no!
the fact that I’m an ox, a *****, a pretentious ***** and you, an enigma..
that don’t change anything!
we are unable to begin again.
we made it once. we should be happy and look back in hunger.
we were on the first page of newspapers but,
we ended up in
the matrimonial section – the place where