Mike Acker


Consumer


Sliced, diced,
shredded, chopped,
fried brains, sauteed thoughts,
mixed with the biting vinegar
of foul abuse.
The kind that strikes fear,
and sows perfect demons,
larger than life.
Clipped wings, then
into the bitter winds
and storms of simple days, pushed.
Split minds and fractured hearts,
injected with unnatural broths.
How else to fight these,
these devils
they grew inside,
them.

Submitted: Saturday, April 26, 2014
Edited: Monday, April 28, 2014

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  • Captain Cur (5/4/2014 11:42:00 AM)

    poignant write, felt the heartbreak and the sadness.
    yet hope, there must always be hope, there has to be hope. (Report) Reply

  • Susan Lacovara (4/27/2014 11:49:00 AM)

    When I think of the word SHELTER I envision it to mean safety, warmth and security....sadly for many this is far from the case of what it means to their life. How broken down is society to have to SHELTER in such tragic terms. Your poem shouts out to be heard! Peace (Report) Reply

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