The Blue God
by Joan McNerney
The blue god of war
is so strong
he can twist trees
with the tip of his tongue.
You better not defy him
scream at him
lie to him.
He’ll explode and beat
the hell out of you.
He lives on nothing
will die for nothing
makes us children
shivering all night
crying in empty winds
turning our tears to ice.
The blue god of war
is so strong
northern winds bow
to his will.
He doesn’t dig
your moaning
and groaning.
You better shut up or he’ll
make mincemeat out of you.
He laughs at everything
has respect for nothing
makes us afraid to fight
when he spits in our faces
turning our tears to ice.
So we watch in silence
waiting for the coming light
when he will hold us
in his burning hands
and we will be born twice
once by fire
once by ice.
His insignificant fingers
by Joan McNerney
His insignificant fingers
search coded panels
buttons cool smooth
attached to glowing screens.
But isn’t that power
general motors
general electric
or maybe major, major holocaust?
So admirable
the admiral
can sweep our planet away
in less than half an hour.
Another fact to live with
we can all blow up
in flames.
At any instant
galleries of murdered faces.
All of us born with this
strange dilemma.
Why do anything
when everything is wrong?
Our hearts caged in fear.
The eyes of the dead
are glassy and surprised
staring with open mouths.
Yes and always there is pain
of what could possibly remain.
Perhaps some slabs of concrete?
Is that all we have been building, buildings?
(Editor’s note: NonDoc publishes poetry and creative writing in addition to commentary and news reporting. To submit your poetry for consideration, email editorial@nondoc.com.)
