Charles J. Ingerson


In spite of the calm
tranquil filled night
missing Gilead’s balm
I prepared for the fight.

Finding bunkers full
and rivers hard to cross
darkness held its lull
helping history to gloss.

Seeing death’s embrace
littered bloody roadsides
needing to indeed race
where safety oft resides.

Anger mounting within
shallow emotions bared
my life so fully now thin
flaming eyeballs seared.

The vessels flushed red
images profoundly beckon
in confusion truly led
moments in hate to reckon.

Pulsing ravaged torrents
cascading abandonly such
issuing so many warrants
pain can no longer touch.

Pressed into high alert
wondering how so alone
why did so many disserts
will I ever again go home?

Protruding into vacantness
my flaming eyeballs seek
some calling emptiness
and succor for the weak.

Nothing or nobody found
no caves or hidden ways
no sirens or any sound
endless aimless the days.