Human Writes: Megan Eyres
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,
Snipers on rapid fire,
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.
A bullet to a head of a saint.
never to protest,
success again for his cherry blossomed daughters
The enemy, a steel wall, high power,
more souls burnt then living.
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
Approaches your barricades
with sugar filled, stick replacements
And you eat them.
A room inside my head,
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
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.