Title

What age is this?
What time?
My eyes beg deception from your turgid lies
What barbarous land?
Had the scars not healed on such hands
That hold the sword again?
What of truth and men
Of women and love
Of kindness from within
Unbidden by the empty above?

Terminus By Nicholas Christopher

“Here is a piece of required reading

at the end of our century

the end of a millenium that began with the crusades

The transcript of an interview

The Trumpafoon

A ghost has appeared, in the media machine;

with snake-like eyes, in a suit so clean.

A jaundiced master, who has no plan;

with violent racists, as biggest fans.

Sincerely, Not Yours.

Sincerely, Not Yours.

Dear Mother,
I once lived within your 
collection of bones and flesh 
stacked neatly together 
our souls became intertwined 
 woven dreams like tapestry 
run all over the stateless stream 
of our warm blood 
of the first land I ever
lived …

Courage Oughta Come in Cans

Courage in a can would be nice
So far we’ve only gotten so far as beer in our cans.
And that’s kind of the same-
makes awkward times comfortable,
shyness into confidence,
isolation replaced by sociability.

Wake Up

This is a land of blood

Blood of the innocent shed

Because this country is too weak to defend

Afraid to offend

Wanting to please everybody