articolikarl

INDEX

BENEDETTO AZZURRO

BLESSED BLUE

Beyond the bars a small square of dusty Plexiglas
I strain to see through the opaque bubble
The moon, pressing my face to the steel gate
Trying to focus and grasp the ghostly
Circle, but it stays blurred as if
My eyes were filled with tears, and still
I have not seen the moon in five years or more.

In my new cell below, I try again
Yet when I reach to rub my aging lenses
I find them wet: confused
I press a finger to my lips
And taste the salt of my body, and so
I silently weep, trying to stifle myself,
Hide my quiet outburst from those who would
Leech upon my sorrow and pain.

My chance is over, dawn speaks
Through the change of shifts
And somewhere above, the unknown sky
I have not seen in ten years or more.

LE ULTIME PAROLE

Last Words...

"Today I shall bid you good-bye,
fret not, I am one of many slaved to die,
But shed a tear at my murdered passing,
for I am no animal in some midnight gassing.

Through the years they have tried to keep me down,
in dark holes and bloodied corners I was alone.
In the constant walls my thoughts would drown,
as I tried to swim through memories of home.

I have overcome this hell, only because
those attentive and caring few who cared to fight.
They are here with me today, the "thanks" must pause,
for now I must walk towards the light.

I hear laughter echoing in the Golden Hall.
The next steps I must go alone r
I promise to keep you remembered in my soul,
Feel this truth in the winds above Rome.

But my eclectic inner-self still yearns to fight,
to continue the battle without hands, feet or breath,
I am a walking contradiction in the dark days and nights,
For I still fight beyond my crucified death.

I shall spend the mornings waiting for you
In pillowy clouds of ivory smoke I'll stay,
Look yonder, o'er stars, past the sky blue,
I sit patiently in the Glory of God, knowing our fate,
"Over here," it's just the breeze? "Look for me,
With pen and paper, smiling, just past Heaven's gate..."

Karl's last words,
(if the government has executed this man)

Il Tritacarne

"The Grinder"

It is the blinding flash of the arrest,
like a lightning bolt that strikes
down the normality of everyday life.

It is the piercing of flesh and
mind as sharp spikes pull you into its
vast warehouses with rules, policies and
trials controlled by the power mongers.

It is the tearing of flesh, the execution
of innocence as the grinder grinds away
your life, while black robes sit on high,
and cameras stare down, looking away from
the truth beyond the lies and misconstrunctions.

It is the justice system, the
prison industry, which makes man its product
and the enemy, as if another species
to be hated, to be ignored, to be
executed like some stranded animal
caught in the complicities of human behavior.

It is the bite upon one's liberty,
the trough in which I am fed,
the 8 x 10 isolation cell I live in,
the media who won't hear, or show any truth
which might portray the government as the monster
to be feared if not tamed.

It is the handcuffs every day,
the sunless days and moonless nights,
the inhumane existence,
the strangers probing me, searching me, daily,
the theft of evidence and witness lists,
the false accusations,
and the impending trial for which they,
the same who put an innocent man in prison,
now want to execute if found guilty.

It is the blind public,
listening and not looking,
hearing but not helping.