Friday Nite Poetry: Verse From The Edges

Which Side are You On?

Which Side are You On? (Photo credit: Canadian Veggie)

Hello gentle readers. Apologies, once again, for my sporadic posting, especially on this feature. Life has been gloriously chaotic, in a mostly positive way, and it has been keeping me away from the internet.
This week is going to be another exercise in writing verse on the fly. As I wade further into the world of activism I feel more of a desire to write about those issues which stoke my passions. Whether it is environmental, racial, economic, or gender justice, there is so much work to be done and so many eyes yet to be opened. Also, there are so many out there who are capable of shaping the world for the better, if only they realized the power they possess. Tonight’s post is for those people.

The Empty Banquet

The room stretches for miles
so many plates
clean and white
so many attendants
lean and hungry
waiting to be served
waiting for their time
waiting for their table to be called

They wait for hours
they wait for days
for months
for years
for generations
never hearing that call
wondering if they missed it
knowing deep down
the truth of it

They know what they see
the same table
called again and again
its party getting fat
and lazy
and complacent
while all others wither
and waste and bury their young
under their rickety chairs

The Fat Party knows though
they can see it in the others’ eyes
the slowly growing rage
the inevitable howl
of the hungry beast
and they count their days
because they never learned to count their blessings
bestowed by people at the empty banquet

 

Fun House

We are each a mirror
for the other
each the image
of what we see
and experience
of those around us

We reflect our prejudices
and paint our neighbors’ identity
on the canvas of their minds
choosing for them
the path most convenient for ourselves
despite the toil they may suffer for it

We know this
and know they do it too
yet never learn
how to give each other
a better view
of what we are within

 

Cannibal

Slow
We
Eat the
dried carcass
covering our bones
tearing away our very flesh

It
Makes
No sense
And yet we
Rush to devour
That which we require to survive

We
Die
Trying
To live more
to consume it all
because we do not know better

The
Worlds
Provide
All we need
Yet we cannot see
The endless bounty around us

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