Free Verse in Useless Times

The lights flickering

In the distance are red

and I believe that

I’ve totally lost my head.

The city it seems

is burning red

tonight

Not sure of

just what I’ve said

from one moment

to the other.

Verse pours out like

random bread that’s

passed out

for the swollen bellies

of the famished.

See how skeletal they sit

or lie beside

their mothers,

and are easily

mistaken for the dead,

like so many

of the others all around them.

A look is in

children’s eyes,

eyes with wrinkles

deeply etched.

Mother’s are cradling

their heads.

Hunger, pain

live here raw

like free verse

doled out

by parted

empty lips

in vacant

useless times.

Women and children

gather scraps of metal

in abandoned mines

at the expense

of fragile lives,

like free verse collected

in some

long forgotten,

still,

and useless time.

And all

seems random

here

and destined

certain

not to survive.

No need for

lullabies,

no need for the contrived

lines of verse

that rhyme,

It’s just all meant

to be so simple:

Death just comes

wandering here,

meandering

on its own

picking

left and right,

whatever

may be in sight,

like free verse in

useless times.

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