Overcoming Apathy In The Middle East

Heaven's gate has no open door

Hell hath no fury but a survivor unknown

The devil's got your back

like a desert land's mirage

While blood seeps

through the earth

for a settlement in you

I've always been there

the quiet slave

that arms off your pain

saying nothing with my third eye

asking nothing from God in return

but with eyes begging the skies

to let me love again

I don't want to draw lines

If your bombs blast through.

Where does God catch you on the flight

to a sand dune's daughter heated might

Safety comes in numbers,

its turning back to you

the royal indifference,

she will cast a spell on you.

And then you will find

Hell will cry

a defenseless torpedo over you

There's no divine will.

There's no standing still.

My punctured heart

will be bound by chains

that no one, no thing, no treasured dry land will heal.

We are always looking for a poet's heavy hand

to lighten our heady ground,

to light a million fires

to prove our heart isn't made of stone.

I never saw my life as a canvass

to devise an art of sanctimony

over a loveless life that chose me.

We could only paint the waves

that gave us sight

for a better way to see.

But the lights makes us go cross blind

as someone's truth burns down.

Can we find our way home

across that astro turf lawn?

Or can we break free

from having to launder

our blood stains left on

someone else's shirt?

I live in the dirt.

There's usually no water to be found,

but like you,

I'm ready to run from the hurt,

I don't want to drown.

So do we float upstream?

Do you live off dreams?

Or do we find an escapist clause,

a Hollywood meme

or a retired man's plea

so we don't have to be

the mindful and conscious souls this world was meant to see?

Answering that call of fate will our legacy.