It feels so goddamn good to write, but I shouldn’t say goddamn because God and I recently agreed that I would let him(her) drive – that is to say to help me not screw up again. Ignoring pulsing in ones veins is to play mortal combat with one’s brain and this brain could twist with pain that may require a Jungian to unravel.

A poem, you say, should contain short lines, couplets or stanzas but this long line is akin to something one may encounter at the border of Somalia-Kenya refuge camp where a woman begs for her dying children. Do we ever understand this hunger as we suffer our first world problems of “will it be Mickey Ds or BK for lunch?” when all she hopes is that a taste of Plumpy’Nut will revive the dying body of her seven month baby who looks three months to us, her tiny head bobbing, its mass weight more than bones and flesh combined.

How can we hold up our own heads when so many sing these blues?

So as said – God and I made a pack despite this writer’s agnostic tendencies. Writing this, I realize that sounds of voodoo (making deals) so perhaps it was not God’s words but a snake playing saint. He should know better – this is about here, not for the days that have gone dying.

I could sing Delta blues about those days, but would rather write a gospel choir
not for ourselves, but for those starving babes silently waiting for our tears to materialize.

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  1. Loved it! Loved It twice!

  2. For me this piece is the creamy center of your trio of writings today. If the screw piece is the communion wafer and the Van Gogh piece is the bread, then here is the butter. And its heart is that very surprising take on the poetic line that goes into the heart of Africa. I echo your feeling in this poem. I find it in very bad taste to complain knowing how many people in the world are truly suffering. And the worst kind of complaining is when people do it over dinner and then dare to leave table with food still on the plates.

  3. Feelings – emotions – thoughts – I say it’s a poem.

    I feel you on this. A sad reality.

  4. I think it is the figure of 100,000 people dying a day from starvation and malnutrition on this planet. Efforts on aid to Africa are exemplary(although inadequate) but the soldiers of the different warlord armies confiscate it before it can be distributed .

  5. Wise words and thoughts. it certainly puts life into perspective.


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