John-Ward Leighton


my unshaven face itches
as my confused mind bitches
and the sound track
is punk and seemingly drunk
and we get yet another update
on how people we didn’t know
have met their fate
the powers that be flap in
like so many vultures
on fresh road kill
all eager to get their measure of fifteen minute fame
and most do it in a non existent god’s name
as if prayer would do anything other than
reassure those gullible enough to believe

and yet that same non existent god
is responsible for the creation of the perpetrator
responsible for his confused and dangerous mental state
and heavens even the mentally defective
have the second amendment right to own
a semi automatic firearm
and randomly take the lives of people they don’t know
all the hot air pundits
spew their hate and misinformation and provide the ammunition
for those gullible enough to listen and believe them
strange that those verbally dangerous people
never have the guts to commit these sort of crimes themselves
knowing there is no need
because there is always
a deranged lone gunman
ready to step up and do the deed

these dark thoughts occupy my dreamscape
on this day that is the birthday of my daughter dear
my day dawns sunny and cold
and all my tasks including this poem
seem suddenly old
and my unwashed body begs for a shower
something to take the scales from my eyes
as my random sound track

takes me back

to the semi-desert of Cyprus with the UN in 1965
and sweat in the shimmering heat
and the buzz of flies
and our pet lizards in our sweaty beds
I was older then
but just as

Photograph ©Copyright 2011 by John-Ward Leighton
Photograph ©Copyright 2011 by John-Ward Leighton