If I listen to the next man or woman

who cuts a life to pieces

with a sweeping statement

like a knife

slashing

a living body

of work

that’s died

I’ll feel murdered

inside.

My soul, remains

because of dead bodies

crying out

from the grave.

I alone

seem to be the only one

who hears them.

The rest, say, “Good, he died. He was a socialist, a parasite, on humanity.”

A sweeping gash

of red paint

splattered across greatness

with no chance

for greatness to defend itself.

Strangely, no defense is needed

Greatness

can’t be undone

though, many have tried.

Maybe, I’ve been infected

by my own curiosity, cutting too deeply

right into my bones—

the marrow of understanding.

Dead people

say more than you do.

They are honest

because they can’t hide

naked, underground

unlike you, clothed with cowardice.

This sneaking humanity

says, “Let’s be friends…”

and they walk away.

Hurt people

hiding

in grocery stores

believing

I hate them

when I don’t

How can I?

I don’t even know

them

“Good morning,” I say.

They can’t look me in the face.

We meet at doorways

their shattered respect

distorted

like slivers

of glass

piercing

with pain

infecting

their anger.

My respect

is compromised.

My power

tested.

But now,

the only opinion

that matters

is my own

self-opinion.

Their words

don’t enter

my mind.

Their pride

is part of the crowd

more dangerous

than a thousand

hungry lions,

waiting to eat

the living.

We are saved

by what we believe.

We are saved

by what we reject.

Don’t listen

to the lions’ roar.

Listen to the silence

inside

those living people

who have died.

13 thoughts on “Those Living People Who Have Died

      1. All the best in your quest and I am sure you will achieve it. Being present in every moment and practicing gratitude in these moments it’s the fastest way to your goal. Peace 🙏🏻

        Liked by 1 person

  1. I really like this. I love poems that make me think. It made me think of how people act strangely toward me when I sing while I shop, as though I’ve broken some sort of taboo. Now, mind you, I don’t sing well, but that’s beside the point. Singing gives me joy. Why can’t they allow that joy to infect them as well?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That hurt! This provokes thoughts in the mind. I loved the last line- Listen to the silence inside those living people who have died! This is going to stay with me…
    Thank you so much for sharing this masterwork!🧡

    Liked by 1 person

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