Slave in Waiting… A Multimedia Poem by Toni L.A. Cross

  

She peers out of broken glass

Smeared with all that’s crude and crass

The glass is like her life

It cuts her with its knife

She is old and broken

Her pain pools unspoken

No way to escape

This endless rape

She peers out with shattered eyes

Heavy with tears she never cries

The tears are like the curtain of beads

Strung and hanging useless weeds

Tacky and in the way

Like the thought that she should pray

If God did care

She should see Him somewhere

Won’t He send someone

To undo what is done?

Does no one know

That she is here down below?

 

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You may have noticed the new glowing orange button on the righthand side of this website.

I often blog about issues related to injustice and suffering. Well, today, a friend of mine inspired me to actually start researching what I can do to make a difference.

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throwaway… by Toni Cross

This is another photo challenge from Charles Martin.

i huddle in the refuse

part of excess and castoffs
and i blend into my corner perfectly


i am helpless and bare and somewhat ugly
pathetically needing your help

if i was cute
i bet you’d scoop me up and love me
i bet if I was darling, you’d maybe even feed me

but i’m awkward, dirty and wobbly
you don’t want to touch me

so all i get are kicks from hard shiny shoes
uneasy pitying glances
or rocks thrown by taller creatures

nothing to keep me safe
or fill my poor lil tummy

i’m not good enough for that
the world deems that i don’t deserve
anything at all

blood painted landscape… by Toni L.A. Cross

blood painted landscape of pain
splashed across the canvas

of ill-acquired gain
tears of motherless babes

splashed across the canvas
of ready and waiting graves
tears of motherless babes
imploring hearts that glint coldly like metal

lives crushed like a flower petal
trampled by the heavy boots of terror
watching the yarn of time spin
as an infinite foot pushes on the treadle

trampled by the heavy boots of terror
families crumble into dust
as an infinite foot pushes on the treadle
and our world gasps and shudders

trampled by the heavy boots of terror
of ill-acquired gain
as an infinite foot pushes on the treadle
blood painted landscape of pain