A Morning Reflection

I wake to the dark world, count hours of sleep

both slept and lost in pools of madness deep

as I decant myself down wooden stairs,

spilling mumbled dreams; thoughts like burdened wares;

commodities unfit for trade or keep.

Braced for the kitchen-cold, I slide my feet

and flip flop to the pot, then quietly heap

the bitter grains to steam the saddened air;

            I wake to the dark world,

my thumb slides reveal the tricks, cruel and cheap

by western regime.  Lies! Bombs! Souls to reap

in dusty streets, souls with blood matted hair,

souls to save with social media prayers;

            I wake to the dark world.

Tomas Bird - Apple Fire 2018