#BringBackOurGirls

The article states there were more

Nigerian females found, but my Interwebs

 

friend in Nigeria says there is

a campaign with a motto

 

stating: Buy Nigerian made. Buy Nigerian

wife.  The girls are lost more

 

and more.  He assures me that it is the Nigerian way

 

expressing the need to protect their

women.  I believe him.  I have read his

 

poems.  Rough and raw at the world, Nigerian

Poets come to me like magic in code.  From what I can

 

decipher, the word workers in Nigeria want safety and peace.

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K.illing You R.oughly or Shit, Trump Can’t Win or Feel the Burn

You are living off far more

than a single human being

 

could possibly need

to live pleased,

 

peacefully.  Some say that it’s a life

 

of excess.  I call it excessive indifference

to every Other around. You don’t care

 

to think about how sometimes

their hands are so rooted in their eyes

 

from the cruel order of indifference

to human suffering, because you are too busy

 

reflecting on your own desires.  Entire nations could

die denied their own name for the sake of your personal

 

gain.  You let yourself be

ruled by the inhumanity of consumer

 

economics instead of the careful nurture

home economics could offer you.  How

 

many fine suits and luxuriously made silk

scarves do you have?  You know the ones so nice

 

to the touch making the hand slide down your chest

like Narcissus caressing yourself. Psychoanalyst’s say

 

it’s typical Psychopathy of the tendrils, pedals, orange on

white dying in a reflecting pond having been cut

 

from their very root system.  Psychotherapy may be useful

to mollify the narcissistic personality to relate to others

 

less manipulatively, but there is no cure.  It’s known that

they can’t cure you of that vanity staring right back to you

 

from your vanity standing in your gaze—the exquisite

craftsmanship of that fine wood encasing the looking

 

glass.  You are your own portrait so you need not

commission one. Too deluded with willful ignorance

 

to one’s own self-serving behavior—always ready, willing to

convict and sentence anyone who doubts his

 

greatness.  Watch as I light that fine furniture on fire

just to watch your image go up in flames.

Blooms Wanting

Hostas are such ugly

flowers.  One has to wonder how

many lines have ever been

written about them.  Their foliage

can be spectacular, each variegated line

in different shades of green. One leaf unfolds

for the next almost like the elegant pedals of roses

in a bowl.  Instead of symbols of grace, Hostas are toys

for children sneaking in their neighbor’s yard

searching for the plumpest bud just about ready

to offer the world a glimpse of flowering

just so chubby little fingers can make that incredible

POP.  The loss of that blossom is never noticed.