Nancy L. Meek


No freakin’ peace-keeping mission…
but car bombs, bullets and death
splattering our morning edition,
the rightwing defaming the left,
the leftwing responding in kind,
war poets throwing up their hands,
sweet peace growing hard to find,
natural disasters foiling our plans.

No freakin’ good jobs for the willing…
but sewage polluting the streets
mingling with cold corpses swelling,
young mouths begging for treats,
the famished scrounging for food,
some nearing the end of their rope,
hands on stomachs as they brood
slipping slowly from the knot of hope.