Can't you see
That person who lies
in the **** of the earth?
The one who's eyes
shamelessly share their tale of misery?
You are the same
You and he.

In our fight to survive
we've let others fall behind
left them in the dust when all it took
was to pick them up
brush them off
and ask them to come with us.

But instead greed took over
No longer did we want to survive
we wanted to succeed
Live in excess and luxary
even if that meant
leaving old friends in squaller

What happened that made us so selfish and
cruel?
That we can't give a dime for the hungry to have food?

Wishing won't make these problems dissappear
Action is the only way to help those who've chosen not to hear
the cries of those who's stomachs never silence

How can so many be oblivious?
Can't you see they're really us?
One mistake, one wrong answer
The right place at the right time
That's all it takes
The flap of a butterfly's wings
and suddenly it's you who's stomach sings

History erased. Stories respoken to tell a
different tale.
Lives traded, their kindness will prevail.

But the question remains
Would you do the same?
Tomorrow, the next
when I am not here to tell you my tale
Will your head fill again
with false ignorance?
Will the sorrow of starvation
become silent to your ears?

If so, lead with your heart and not your head
Because when you're dead and gone
Let your legacy live on
As someone who did something.

The shared tears of fate,
Those harmful conversations
Of,
“should I **** myself”
Debates.
You feel that you have another
Chance,
But that other chance maybe
Too late.
Those ****** memories,
And your murderous
Enemies,
That “Get the **** out my face!
Your no kin to me”
Type attitude.
Your zero tolerance
Have you floating
With no gratitude.
You’re lost,
And misunderstood,
Your crown of success weighs heavy
And far way too good-
With a mean-timid beast
Like yourself.
Theirs hope for the hopeless.
You feel 10 times worst when your words
Are respoken.
Your problems are now soakin,
But again as I say,
There’s hope
For the hopeless.


Marci H.

The screams and terrors of unburied souls makes
It even more believable that the devil is in
Control.
The sleepless nights that one may live
Leaves it harder to escape and even more realer to
Feel.
But, why? Is always the number one question to be asked.
We’re living in color that leaves us like sardines that’s
Packed,
Together for a new war.
We’re supposed to be getting prepared but the sins is just
More distraction and controllable, our life changes from bad to
Horrible,
And you still wonder why God haven’t closed the
Portable.
Silly and easy to say, we’re becoming slaves, and buried in an open
Grave.
Say your prayers,
For God ears are always open, and our mouths are always
Frozen.
We penetrate into temptation and fantasize about dreams that’s
Hopeless.
Your words and my words together is respoken into an open
Chant,
And a revised message that screams loud like thunder and roars
Louder than a lion
Cry,
That leaves us under the devil control. Why is always the question,
And the word that ***** the life out of our body,
That leaves us lusted
And tempted again
To ask…
Why?





-Marci H.

Playing with words is one of my gifts
Poetry, prose, through pen or the lips

Let me show you what happens
What goes on in this brain
As I introduce you to the art of Wordplay

They march in - then beat, tortured, stretched, and broken
Completely dissected before they're respoken
All meaning pulled out, fully extracted
Give a word no mercy - just straight up attack it
Roll it over, spin it around, toss it up, smash it down
Play with it - make it move, hold it still
Like a cat with its mouse just before the ****
And when the word no longer resembles itself
When it's suffered, collapsed, gone through hell
Give it love, offer grace
Let the word have some space
Place it back on the tongue and see how it tastes
Then the word, encouraged, will offer something new
Will compel your lips and your jaw, your whole mouth to move

Something fresh will come out, unexpected perhaps
Spurred by the word and the knocks and the taps
at the door to your mind -
Same word.
Redefined.

It still fits
But now it tells a new story
Try it again - it never gets boring!

What once was unseen, unknown, and unheard
Has now been revealed by this old-but-new word

"What should I make of this?" many inquire
My advice?
Play with words, not fire!

To my home, the words take me
  each calling by name

Tearing walls from around me
  passion free, unrestrained

Their visions at midnight
  have lulled me to sleep

Their message when troubled
  my nightmare to greet

Through the long and the short
  it’s the words once again

Like the tide on the shore,
  they return as a friend

And lately I’m hearing
  an echoed refrain

From verses long distant
  offloading my pain

These words that I hear
  more whisper than shout

And what I once questioned,
  I no longer doubt

Through my voice they’re respoken
  to shield me from harm

Their peace like a blanket
   —under which I am warm

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)