The Elephant’s Foot

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The last vestige

of catastrophe

is the open wound

which refuses to heal.

Meltdown in slow motion,

it cannot be allowed

room to breathe.

Domes of rebar,

abandoned forest,

crumbling infrastructure,

and red tape

keeps only the corium

contained.

We all feel

the open secret lingering

in the air,

falling all around us

like snow.

The truth is so plainspoken,

so brash as it stares you in the face

yet no one can do a thing

but trudge on with their lives.

If you dig too deep

and get to the bottom,

you will only find

what you knew was true all along.

An immovable object,

giving off irresistible forces,

leaves its indelible marks

in silence.


War Games

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Three TU-95s,

Proudly announcing,

Their arrival,

With droning,

Moaning,

Turbines,

Heard for miles.

A flying fossil,

One should not sleep-on,

And is impossible to ignore-

You’ve already heard it,

Long before,

It’s dropped its ordinance.

Four engines- eight props,

Send “The Bear,”

Roaring through the sky,

To survey the territory.

Edging up,

To other’s airspace,

It’s the same old song and dance,

As six cutting-edge stealth-jets,

escort the old Bear,

back from whence it’s came,

Just stopping by to say “hello,”

And keep you on your toes.