We should never forget
when we were the unwilling pawns of madmen

who ushered out death sentences
due to cults of personality,
who robbed good people blind for their own profits,
who tried to destroy historical objects and actual stories in order to get ahead,
who trapped those who were perceived as rats and pigs,
but were doves and gentle dogs trying to find their way home,
wandering in endless fields,
hidden in overgrown trees,
sailing in boats with no home port to escape to—-

All the deaths, ongoing for many years,
the wasted hidden potentials snuffed out before their time,
possible cures and inventions to help humanity,
never realized,
families shattered, stripped, eschewed, abandoned, changed forever—-

My husband’s family,
half of its elder, original members that carried the torch for hundreds of years,
is now dust, thanks to war.

Genocide is still happening,
we haven’t learned the lesson:

The slaughter continues;
will we ever learn to stop the senseless killing?
We must at least try to remember this,
no more killing,
please good people,
no more

‘Cause Cancer had come to call, he’s no welcome guest.
The surgeons took a big hunk of skin from my sister’s arm,
three lymph nodes under the tender armpit and neck,
and a biopsy from her stomach, since her voice has grown
deep & rusty as if it had run-over by razor blades.

‘Cause Cancer had come to call upon this tough, youngish lioness,
whose growl could tame the winds of the Serengeti,
or North Texas, when tornados stay in Springtime, setting up shop,
she could had conquered everything in her path for her two cubs,
the first three operations (arm, neck, stomach) did do her in yesterday
but now she’s prowling at Wal-Mart, getting things done—

‘Cause Cancer had come to call, it will get expensive;
her friends and family send love, support and money online,
so she could still pay the bills between treatments.
Mom stayed behind to mind the kids, and to aid my sister when she’s sick.
We sent money; I wished I was there to do more—-

‘Cause Cancer had come to call,
I pray every day that he don’t claim her.
She just turned 40; her best years are ahead,
and I dread those later years if I’d end up losing her—

But she’s fine, one day at a time—
Just don’t get too comfortable
when cancer comes to call.

Sullen April,
why are you so sad?
Why are you so cold?
Baby, we just want to get to know you—

They say that all girls
love the springtime,
but you dragged your boots,
crushing new flowers in two

And April showers
make you so happy,
but not us, gloomy Gus.
We like the sunshine.

And the Frenchmen at the other table,
they don’t turn your head.
Though they’re dressed up to the nines,
you like your own company fine.

Sullen April,
why are you so sad?
Why are you so cold?
Baby, we just want to get to know you—

You did with boys way too young,
Now you hide in the library,
and you got them on the run—

You weren’t much of a singer,
you couldn’t write a decent rhyme,
but, in spite of your recent hiding,
you had impeccable time-ing.

And wide, open spaces to you were always such a chore,
when it will finally heat up, oh, my sweet,
maybe we can meet up by the shore.

Sullen April,
why are you so sad?
Why are you so cold?

Baby, we just want to get to know you;
Honey, we just want to get to know you;
Darling, we just want to get to know you.

Didn’t emerge from my cell today,
my brain carried a low-hanging cloud,
causing me to sneeze and cough
Vitamin C cleared my voice but not for singing.
I saw bones forming from a serpent heart
until sleep saved the scene—
I wish I were somewhere sunnier for a day or two,
I wish I could sleep in a foreign land,
I wish my cloudiness could let go of the rain,
so I could breathe easy again.
Virtual reality 3/27/18 by Carrie Magness Radna
March 27, 2018 ~ Leave a comment ~ Edit
Future invalids will be caught before death.

They’ll bolt them tight unto their beds
and strap the head harness on
with the elbow-length ultra-sensitive gloves,
sitting straight up on honeycombed gel mattresses,
wrapped in tissue-thin bathrobes.

Even with their minds almost gone,
they could visit their past,
reliving their glory days
as they lie back in virtual grassy meadows,
the golden light peeking through the thin blades,
puffs of dandelion smoke blowing through.

But she’s not there now, your beautiful girl
you once loved splendor on the grass;
she never believed in virtual reality
and all the experiments the scientists did to you,
so they built a similar model to void any loneliness—

And the children are here,
meeting, fighting and loving others
in another world,
traveling millions of miles without moving,
forgetting the real world entirely.