Listed by Duotrope
a peer-reviewed quarterly journal on literature
E-ISSN 2457-0265
Poetry
Howard Moon
Volume:
8
2024-06-01
Issue:
2
Nothing Changes
The body count grows
The silent cries of children
Finally find voice
Surprise from those whose ancestors
Did nothing
Lip service from an uncaring
Unremorseful government
Press and populous give it a passing glance
A flash of news here, then forgotten
The system of cruelty and crassness
Still stands
Unchallenged unchanged
Are only the privileged important
Who must die
How many must disappear
At what number does it become important
When will we see the dismantling
Of the procedures put in place
To protect the privileged
To favor those in power
Too much cruelty
Too many bodies
Too little concern
Nothing changes
Quiet Place
I have a quiet place
A place I love
A place where the outside
world does not exist
where there are no distractions
Where silence screams
Where stillness is deafening
Inside there is neither here nor there
Inside there is no yesterday or tomorrow
Inside there is not even today
Because inside time has not stopped
Inside time has ceased to exist
Only I exist
Nothing else
At times my special place
My quiet place
My timeless place
At times it can be the loneliest place in the universe
Finding
Getting off the bus in a southwestern town
Looking around staring at nothingness
Miles of unbroken skylines
Searching for a country of states united
Having escaped the tree lined streets of suburbia
Noticing the obvious lack of anything remotely green
This seems a different country
The smoke-filled bar brings a rude awakening
The beer brands may be new
Strange songs fill the air
Unfamiliar accents reach my ear
The same drone-like people sit on the stools
The same distant dead appearance in their eyes
The same uncaring care-less look on their faces
Traveling so many days
After so many miles
Looking to find something new
The landscape may have changed
But the people are unchanged and untouched
Children at play
Grimy faces smiling running jumping
Dirty from a day of play
Nothing that their nightly bath cannot remedy
Collecting cans for some secret project
Hauling away the large cardboard box
A spaceship to take them on adventures to unknown planets
Reality check
Today’s grime will be compounded for many tomorrows to come
Lack of running water makes simple washing a luxury let alone a bath
Cans jealously guarded scraped with spoon and stick for every bit of spoiled food they hold
Brought home for tonight’s family meal
That coveted cardboard box will add a new room to their already crowded box on box home
Children at play
About the Poet
Howard Moon had a career as a broadcaster and professional writer. He has been published in PhotoMethods, Fire Chief and Fire Engineering magazine, and was the staff writer for Today In Ocala. His work has appeared online in Folks Magazine. He was a columnist and Op Ed writer for the Ocala Star Banner. Recently his writing and poetry have appeared in multiple collections and anthologies, Small Change, Montana Mouthful, Das Literarisch Journal, Of Poets and Poetry. His writing has been nominated for multiple local awards. He has four books of poetry and multiple books of short stories available on Amazon. Howard is of Native heritage. He is retired and living in central Florida. He now spends his time writing poetry and flash fiction.
