Pixelated People

Posted on Updated on

 

Images appear

every day and night;

I look but do not see

the pixelated sight

 

of flesh that vegetates

in bombed out homes,

and the calcined white

of a million femur bones,

 

Smoke choked yellow skies,

 sunlight without shade,

moonlight without solace,

and gods that are manmade.

 

Silent pixel children

whose huge sad eyes

and thin husk of skin

never  feel the feet of flies;

 

Resigned young women

waiting to be resold

shriveled brittle elders

 empty, silent, cold;

 

Pixel justice  is revealed

to every sex and age

according to the canons

of fear and hate and rage

 

By talking pixel heads

selling stale ‘Breaking News’,

beer, and sex and drugs,

and biased, specious views.

 

And yet — despite true lies

or images that decieve,

I  listen, look,and hope;

but rarely can believe.

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