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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn  7/28/2014 9:33:18 PM
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Insensate Destruction

Rehearsed words tumble from his tongue
capable of vaporizing
feelings; then with his briefest smile
becomes the redresser once more
leaving the object of his words
emotionally traumatized:
Mind raping at its finest form;
Cold-bloodedness runs through his veins
colder than any ectotherm;
Temperament worse than the worst
lacking the slightest compunction;
More like reptilian than human
this controlling creature thriven
on human mental frailties.
Albert Ahearn



Inside The Box

Washington always “thinks inside the box.”
No wonder why we’re in the fix were in.
Their collective thinking stifles or blocks
The country’s progress and provides the spin
To sway the public view of uselessness.
This herd mentality is quite bizarre
To think that all these minds can not express
A single “out of the box' thought thus far.
It’s piteous, at least to me, to see
These coattail hangers we call congressmen-
Inane, inept reps of the bourgeoisie
constantly screwing us time and again.
One must conclude this simple inference
Vote in or vote out makes no difference.
Albert Ahearn




Mans inspiration steals its way
Unobtrusively to mind
Like a cat burglar on a heist:
Stealthy, but it comes not to rob
Intellectual property
But to deposit a priceless gem
Still unpolished yet nonetheless
Precious to a creative mind.
Unlike a diamond in the rough
this gems luster is most fleeting
whose innate beauty potential
is measured in nanoseconds
thus leaving little precious time
to create a faceted gem.
Albert Ahearn



Insurgents Mission

The following, it seems, happens almost every other day in the occupied territories of the left bank, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Summer sights so seemingly serene, yet
Beneath this fraudulent facade, the day
Is fraught with unexpected, unforeseen
Carnage. It all began begrudgingly
At first, but soon ruin and death loom large.
He waited years for this chance; now it’s here.
A time to offer up his life to God.
For Allah and the Cause he must succeed.
The sticks of death are strapped to his body
And are uncomfortable; but that's okay.
He walks to the designated target
Then strolls cautiously, calmly amongst them.
Looks around himself, thinks of his loved ones
Then detonates- sees a flash, hears nothing.
Albert Ahearn
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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn