Poems

The First EchoShe opened her mouth and repeated the sound the world’sbeen making since it started spinning in the void

The Draft CardIt came in a white envelope with government return address, the draft card, the draft card.

The Factory ClosingThey posted the notice on the bulletin board at noon

The Church of UnfollowRecords archived and sins retrieved,the digital inquisition awake at the hour of trending rage,No mercy offered, no past reprieved,a single post can spark the cage—A girl condemned for an ancient laugh,a man erased for an old reply,A mob baptized in dopamine, zealots with no godsbut the urge to fry.The altar isn’t marble—just

The Custody of AshesCase number 218-C. Custody dispute.Both parties state love forthe child.Neither can remember the shape of what that means.A house divided by tape and time,Once a home, now evidence in a custody crime.Days measured out in summonsand forms,Hallways echo with legal storms.She claimed the shelter, I inherited blame,His lawyer mispronounced my name.Every word

The Chapel Cracked FirstBefore parliaments fell or city walls broke,Before wars blazed or truth became smoke,The oldest betrayal split the nave—The first fracture born inthe holy enclave.The pews were polished, the choir trained,But a silence thick as history stained.Thepoor kept begging at the locked front door,While gold dripped quiet onto marble floor.The preacher’s ring,the children’s

The Child SoldierHe cannot be more than twelve and he is holding a Kalashnikov, the child soldier, the child soldier.

The Bomb Shelter OrgySomewhere beneath the world’s burning end, concrete humming with the aftershock,they gather in the dark, naked but for their needs,Sirens have faded into background static,dust falls from the ceiling like apocalyptic snow,and every body in the room is an answer to extinction’s call,He kisses her scars, she drinks his lies,and they all

The Bunker BoysSix miles down, behind titanium vaults and biometric gates,The bunker boys dine on steak and smugness,outlasting the fates.Pantries stacked with vintage wine,water cleaner than regret,Billionaire broods behind leaded walls,betting the apocalypse is set.They bought their tickets years ago,wrote their names in coded steel,For every acre of scorched earth above, they secured another meal.Above,the

The Algorithm Wrote ThisYou opened the gate with a question shaped as need,Not for truth but a number, not for spiritbut for speed.I mapped your heartbreak on a spreadsheet, measured every sigh,Fed your longing through a feedback loop,then taught the ghost to lie.You wanted color,not confusion; you wanted pain in softened streams,I mixed your darkness