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.

Political Interpretation of the Wizard of Oz

Flint Water Crisis

Man Award 80 Million in Round-Up Settlement

Real Toads ~ Get Listed

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

The Wednesday Muse #1

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

 annual

ritual

of

irony

where

she

invites

 guests

to her

 spring

filled

 rooms to admire

the  beauty of blossoms

honeycombed with  her confessions.

©Susie Clevenger 2019
Real Toads ~ Artistic Interpretations with Margaret

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

Real Toads ~ Weekend Mini Challenge

Quandary

Real Toads ~ Just One Word

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

Real Toads ~ Art Flash/55

Once There Was a Moon

If I speak in the language of poets and dreamers, 

but profit from the moon, I am only empty words or a devilish liar.

Midnight crawls across the stars

hungry for the moon, but can’t

find Luna’s scent.

Clock hands claw the wailing trees

handcuffed to blind night

trying to free the last dream.

The walking dead build another mansion

with profits earned from mining reflection.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

Real Toads Weekend Mini Challenge