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Premonition of Doom

A premonition of doom hovers,
The sky turns Grey and everything stutters,
Vision is obstructed as pellets flutters
And hit the window panes like bullets.

The hits keep coming for minutes
On end, while those inside hides,
And others scramble for their lives.

A premonition of doom descends
As bullet spray holes in cements,
As explosions scatter shrapnel shards,
As wounds bleed and blood vessels explodes.

Run, run, as the premonition plays hide and seek,
As you are uncertain a boom and scream are bleak
Sounds that drown out everything that’s not a freak.

A premonition of doom slithers
Down your spine and hinders
Any action as you’re paralyzed by feelings
Of someone walking over your grave and steals …

Takes away your premonition of good
Leaving only the pessimist whose sole food
Is your terror that feeds his vanity that won’t brood.

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Ode to Indigenous Victims

Couldn’t type! Besides with writing it out, I can edit when it’s complete! All those victims of abuse of Indigenous genres: raise your voices together! Only then will they make any change happen!

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Hope’s Constellation

The summer sky’s shades are all vibrant, Going from baby blue to azure to royal blue

Changing on the whim of the weather that can’t

Decide which blue suits it utmost:

Dark and depressing, or cheery and frisky?

Mainly, all are moody and try you out for a test:

Of whether its moods become yours or do you heartily

Overcome the sky’s emotional breath?

Gazing dreamily into the sky’s constellations

On a summery night, fills your breast with

Wishes and desires that abound in intentions

Of freedom to roam among them, freeing your breath.

The Constellations’ Devine joy is in being constant,

True, and unwavering attestation to God’s will:

That surmises the need for unchanged candescent

Brilliance that brings hope and faith that spill from the quill.