Human Writes: Megan Eyres

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A Sniper Too Tired to Fire There are holes in the walls tonight

upside down cider.

Slurred, replayed commands.

Pretty knitted sand bags,

blanket bombing your war zone trench,

Mother.

Snipers on rapid fire,

carelessly soaking,

drowning petals in dawn tears.

That uniform stitches of lies

and secret phone calls late,

hiding his forgivable, smashed grin.

Grin of drunk and sin;

That grin I miss. 

 

 

Sweet Treats over Violence

Watch again tomorrow.

Through the blurred ocean rain

where brothers leave again,

no longer two hearts beating,

but one begging to fade.

Lost again.

A bullet to a head of a saint.

Warrior.

never to protest,

success again for his cherry blossomed daughters

Safety.

The enemy, a steel wall, high power,

more souls burnt then living.

Believing.

History was crucified

an experimented lie was the truth.

Now this woman.

This extraordinary, explosion blusher queen,

remarks history on this terrain, this block.

Footsteps larger then mans

dreams wider than yours.

Watch again tomorrow.

Your ants quiver, shiver.

As this Goddess

this black woman

this human. 

Approaches your barricades

with sugar filled, stick replacements

for grenades.

And you eat them. 

 

 

Broken Anxiety

A room inside my head,

laughter raining. 

Mocking.

Indulging my hunger.

My window tapes bravery.

A foreign world of envious mirrors lurk,

waiting for people

like the next lamppost.

This room, deprived of oxygen,

no breath of wind or sparrows to cry.

These melting walls, weeping nerves

I drink, not willingly

but like two forbidden plates kissing

creating an argument above

with the doors locked shut. 

 

 

What a Crab Sees

Arrogant.

Bacteria infected minds,

fill the air with slicking whistles of bullets,

contain young lungs with chemical gases,

not the scent of sweet strawberry cream.

Suck the intelligence.

Execute the imagination.

Mute the migrant with red tape,

vanish the enjoyment, 

illumination of night.

Blood infused with fury

sets the barricades alight,

scorching hot beaches infested with families;

kids amuse themselves in the shadow off army boots.

By night the emotion charges to a war zone.

Sun now a mirror reflecting the fiery consequence,

of selfish cowards who rip the beaches of their purpose.

The ones clapping ripples of water

now wash up the laughter of the unreturnable.

sun shades once used to protect the eyes

now used as helmets to protect the young lives,

evolving bombs into sweet young hearts.

Windbreakers now sandbags not sandcastles.

Tip toeing with anticipation around sting rays

shards of glass, bones, flesh, metal - 

each one piercing the delicacy of skin,

the beach now an enemy.

No longer a safe sanctuary or sea side trip.

Seagulls become sirens

then death sentences

The divine of humanity.

The world on hold.

A trigger lingers beneath the sand.