Thursday, March 28, 2019

Thin Hope of Resurrection

Truth moans in the butterfly spine
pressed against my lips…
Chained to the thin hope of resurrection
my eyes walk gray smudged clouds
praying the sky doesn’t suffer
 a drought of wings.

While crows watch I dust shadows
for fingerprints of misery to collect
evidence roots are forced to grow
green with death so dinner plates
look pretty before obituaries.

Souls line plastic bowls mined with fork and spoon
so the wealthy can grow Eden in glass bubbles and
trust Flint’s river of Oz will never reach their faucets.

Little is done when no one leads.
I am one but louder when others join the chorus.

Insurrection stores matches in hollow eyes
until Karma signals results have almost
traveled full circle to reasons.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019

Notes: I have watched my oldest daughter suffer health issues which I believe have roots in chemical exposure in the city where she lived and the chemical lab where she worked. The Flint reference and the Roundup reference are well known here in the United States as I imagine they are in other parts of the world. When my mind went to Oz, I decided to do a little research. I found a political interpretation of the book to be quite interesting.

Wednesday, March 27, 2019

gogyoshi ~ Mother Earth

Mother Earth doesn’t dream
of borders or bullets
to guard invisible.
She spends her hours of insomnia
searching for a god humans haven’t corrupted.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

Thursday, March 21, 2019

Ritual of Irony

She talks to the peonies
knowing they can’t respond.
Her red painted lips whisper
secrets into the petals
 and watches every blush
 as she tucks them
 into bouquets.
It is her
to her
 rooms to admire
the  beauty of blossoms
honeycombed with  her confessions.

Saturday, March 16, 2019

Ink View

The verses at first read appear
to be an innocuous attempt
to bridge the social-political divide
of us verses them.

Satire can be a twisted clown,
when it’s read as intended…with humor
or within easy reach of a definition.

Verses read or verses read…
It depends on your view of the ink.

  ©Susie Clevenger 2019

Saturday, March 2, 2019

Built on Nothing

The Temple by Tomasz Zaczeniuk
Used with permission @fotowizjer

The priest of self
gathered every
green and wild thing
to his ego and drank
their blood from
the golden cup of avarice.

Built on nothing the
Temple Shrine of Glass Eyes
crumbled into the heartless rape
of Mother Earth’s soul.

A lone seeker searches for light
and begs the sky to grant him mercy.

©Susie Clevenger 2019