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.


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.