We are the Shadow People by Thomas Martin Sobottke


We are the shadow people,
that fear upon your wall
the ones you charge with jack the ripper slayings
with hardly a thought at all.

We do the incarceration mombo,
for alternate realities
guilty of being too distant, too dark, too old,
no bread, no peace
all taken,
by the ones whose blood runs cold.

We are the Arab spring,
the American idea
that pestering set of weeds in your garden
the tire you won’t fix
that you ignore at your peril until fall,
until your arteries harden
and it no longer means anything at all.

Rummaging through closets
filled with old hats and empty shoeboxes,
that used to hold the dreams we dreamed
and protect the ones we love
now mere shadows
forgotten over the roar of bulls
that gorge themselves on the innocent and shoot the dove.

Bartender pour me another bottle of despair,
and how’s your broken promises on the shelf over there,
for we’ve been walking a blind alley
that leads us nowhere fast
and make it a double for that has-been fox with the bluish hair.

We are the shadow people,
huddled masses chained– not free
unseen and uninvited,
we live with tyrany.

If our gnashing teeth don’t get you
in the graveyard at midnight,
your conscience will convict you
and you’ll join us where the worms crawl and creepy things creep at night.

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One thought on “We are the Shadow People by Thomas Martin Sobottke

  1. Shadows aren’t all bad, they still are apart of the light, and need the light, they’re just farther away from it

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