Daylight

in days of dust
and clouded haze
sing silent whispers
amid resignation

where muted martyrs
beckon forth
a call to arms
at arm's length, lost

dull, broken banter
obscuring cries
as empty bottles
fill out our fears

skies loom strewn 
with vacant signs
to feed the void
of eyes so vain

the passive ardor
adorning glass
peers through our window
in blighted light

a hand lay cold
on shoulder spurned 
fixed in the moment
without flinching

when dusk came sweeping
the people waned
a brief importance
then saw me home

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

So many statement stood out. You left the reader with many things to think about.
"where muted martyrs
beckon forth
a call to arms
at arm's length, lost"
The above statement. Cold and true. Muted martyrs leave no mark upon this earth. Thank you Max for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote