A View from a Window

The dawn unfolds beyond my fractured windowpane
and breezes tease while drapes, like serpents, slip aside
exposing worlds that race and run aground, insane,
displaying scenes obscene that savants strive to mask and hide.

Outside, the streets are stark (last night they seemed so cruel 
when demons danced as lanterns 'lumed the lynching tree -
its shadow shuddered, lurking in my vestibule -
within the night, I sense these things I sometimes cannot see).

Perdu in darkened doorways (those which watch the ones that weep) 
men hide their shame in crevices in search of cloaked relief.
The ladies of the evening leave (their time to sleep!)
the alleyways, retaining bitter tastes of untold grief.

Soon drifters (distraught dregs that stray from street to street) 
abandon benches, squat on curbstones some call home,
appeal to strangers for a coin or simple bite to eat -
refused… gaze down… left empty-handed in the morning gloam.

Observe with me, beyond my fractured windowpane,
the boy with crooked smile - the one who's seen the  beast - 
with tears, he stoops and clasps the cross while wiping off the stain -
the abbey door along the lane conceals a pious priest.

While at the mall, Mike sees some cigs, and stealth'ly steals a pack;
the Man, observing, thinks ‘Hey Boy, this caper calls for blood’,
takes aim, then shoots the fated stripling eight times in the back.
Come, mourn for Mike and brother Justice, facedown in the mud.

Fatigued and bored, some kids harass the alley now -
to pass the time, Joe smokes a joint and Lizzy snorts a line;
computer games (which quake with doom) can help somehow,
so Eric plays with Dylan on the road to Columbine.

The shanty towns have hunkered down as if in mortal sport
while broken bodies' shattered bones repose supine,
and mamas (now bereft of child) in anguished pain contort,
their eyes drip drops of wrath which wither on a twisted vine.

Now Mr Baxter, private bankster (cruising down the road,
pursuing profit pushers, waving magic mushroom wands),
adores addiction to the bailout (coffers overflowed)
and jests with all the junkies, while he's dealing with the bonds.

Marauders man the marketplace (with billions guaranteed)  
while kids with swollen bellies beg neath hollow sunken eyes,
and (cut to naught) the down-and-out (like trodden beet roots) bleed.
Life's carousel invites us all, though few can ring the prize.

A washerwoman, timeworn, totters from the tram -
she shuffles to her hovel on a lonesome distant hill,
despondent, shuts the shutters, downs her final dram -
a magpie quickly picks at crumbs forsaken on the sill.

Jihadist and Crusader warders faithfully guard the gates,
behead impious infidels, else burn them at the stake 
(yes, God incites each side for good, the other side He hates),
with saintly satisfaction gained provoking pagan ache. 

The watchers pry behind our fractured windowpanes
inspect us all, tear down the walls of privacy
controlling every point of view opinion entertains,
forbidding thoughts one mustn't think, with which they don’t agree.

Come, cast a furtive glance… there's something in the far…
from towns to dunes in deserts dry, the welkin belches sudden death
by dint of soulless drones that stalk beneath a straying star
erasing life in random ways in freedom’s final breath.

But closer lies an island, where the keepers keep the wards.
No sense, no charges nor defense - a verdict? Yes! … grotesque -
the guiltless gush confessions, born and bred on waterboards.
Impartial trials? A travesty instead, indeed quite Kafkaesque.

Now dusk draws near beyond my fractured windowpane 
while mankind drowns like burnt-out suns in fading lurid light;
and scarlet clots of grim deceit and ebon beads of bane
flow, deified, within the rotting corpse of human night.

Reviews

[D Connolly]

I will review while reading. 1. Fractured outlook, frightening adversaries, maybe political? 2. Everyone is busy, demons are celebrating, fear of an uncertain future. 3. Oh, political for sure, farewell our hopeful lady! Sadness overwhelms an unheard populace. 4. Nightlife is normal. No handouts for the downtrodden, & nothing much will change. Our heads are down now. 5. You see the world's brokenness, ask others to open their eyes. 6. Cheap shots at victims go unobserved or maybe no one cares. 7. Apathy abounds. 8. The poor are getting angry, but no one is listening. 9. Now we're talking, selfish profits off of the weak. No one's left to stop them. 10. The circus is in town, putting on a show, only to leave when there's no more money; an empty, garbage strewn lot. People don't know what hit them, too busy watching acrobats. 11. The backbone of the country is forgotten, no use for you now. But we'll take whatever's left. 12. No one is willing to agree on peace, each side thinks they're right with God, and will sleep soundly tonight knowing they've done the good lord's work. 13. Media tunneling into our head with their entertainment "news", sedate us with fear. 14. Don't look now, here comes the death squad. Don't worry, we only bomb "terrorists", no innocents are hurt by our explosives. 15. Oh neat-o! Torture in the name of national security. 16. The end is close. But we're dead already. No need to sniff the stinky situation. Just go take another selfie...
I like it.

[Terry O'Leary]

Wow!
Thank you D... your analysis gives me more insight into my own thoughts!!!
'nuf said...
Terry

[Beccy]

This is an important poem. To understand, (and mourn,) its full import I read it several times over and marvel at how you have encapsulated our existence,(perhaps even its pointlessness,) in such an exquisitely observed manner.

Not often do I wish I have written lines crafted by another; but this is one of those times; and I need say I admire you as a true poet.

Beccy.

[Terry O'Leary]

Thank you, Beccy.
Yes, I think the words deal with important 'aspects/problems' of our society that are not addressed in any meaningful way in our society (in my view anyway).
Unfortunately, my words won't make any difference...
Thanks for your supportive comment!!
Terry

[Valentine]

A thought provoking write. Valentine

[Terry O'Leary]

Thank you, Valentine!
'thought provoking' makes me happy!!!
Terry