Subvert

**I submitted two poems to The New Yorker. This is one of the two. I obviously was rejected but I can say with pride I was rejected by The New Yorker.***

There is an evil rot within

leaching from the heart

any illusion

that there remains some good.

Time and time again

it has been proven

that society has become doomed

trading away

ethics

morals

basic humanity.

Twisting and subverting

with each falsehood told

embraced

with zeal

religious fevor

becoming the very demon

decried as the enemy.

We have failed.

We have lost our way.

One by one

we have been corrupted

by lies

by slight of hand

and the tears that are wept

fall between the cracks

in this desert land.

©Feb. 23/18

Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

Desert Red

***This is a continuation from the poem River Styx.***

I climb

over burnt amber sands

piled high

reminescent

of snow hills

I played on as a child.

Glaring sun

no respite

I stumble along

unsure

where I am going

what I will find at the end.

Moving one foot before the other

cracked lips

I can feel the skin on my face

blistered

charred

no agony

no pain

Is this trial by fire?

Will the sins staining my soul

finally be erased?

An oasis I seek

mirage

what I find

until finally I fall

unable to move further on.

Peddler man

finds me

face down

covered partly by sand.

With surprising strength

he picks me up

placing me on his wagon.

‘Rest little one.

I am the next to carry you further.’

Sept. 13/18

Photo by Mason Field on Unsplash