“She was Six” published at Spillwords Press

Hey, friends. I’m pleased to let you know my poem “She was Six” has been published at Spillwords Press. Sincere thanks to Dagmara K. and her team for sharing this piece with their readers. I’m grateful for this opportunity.

This piece is a commentary on the global epidemic of violence against children, be it right-wing gun fetishism, gang violence, political and religious warfare, inhumane immigration policies, trafficking or other forms of abuse and neglect. Apparently, at some point humanity has decided the deaths of children is an acceptable form of collateral damage as we attempt to kill each other. We have, indeed, lost our way.

“She was Six”
(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

“she was six
and on the wrong side
of a tyrant’s bomb sights
her small broken body
no match for
the shells
and the hell
that befell
her country
city
neighborhood
block
home
her blood the price
of freedom
she was six

she was six
and on the wrong corner
of the wrong intersection
at the wrong time
as gang-bangers
threw lead
and fled
as she bled
just a typical night
in a typical city
she was six…”

You can read the rest of my poem here:

“She was Six” at Spillwords Press

And once you’re there, take some time to check out the work of many other talented writers at Spillwords Press, where you’ll find a treasure trove of good writing.

“A Poet’s Lamentation” published at Hotel by Masticadores

Hello, folks. I’d like to announce my poem “A Poet’s Lamentation” is now live at Hotel by Masticadores. Kindest thanks to editor Michelle Navajas for sharing this poem with her estimable readers. I’m truly grateful, Michelle.

“A Poet’s Lamentation”
© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

“pardon my sorrow
and forgive my weeping soul
my humble supplication
loosed into the void on raven’s wings
to fall on deafened ears of fickle gods…”

You can read the rest of my poem here:

Also, please consider following and subscribing to Hotel by Masticadores, where you’ll discover a world of wonderfully imaginative and profound writing.

Burn, Baby, Burn…

This morning I received a comment on my post “A Few Haiku & Senryu (63)” with regards to this piece:

(#378)

our humanity
bleeds out in Gaza and Ukraine
just another day

The comment read (and I’m paraphrasing here since I immediately deleted it), “Thank YOU, Mr. President, for bombing Iran,” and setting it on fire, adding that he hopes to see Iran flattened to the same degree as Gaza. He ended his mini-maga-rant thusly: “Burn, baby, burn!”

I have my comments set to Moderation specifically to weed out trash comments from deluded right-wing maga cultist trolls such as this person, so fortunately I was able to delete the comment before it ever saw the light of day on my blog.

In my four years of blogging, I’ve seen only a handful of extremist maga cult blogs (four or five, tops), and I’m grateful for that. This WordPress community has been, in my experience, a safe haven for compassion and sanity, where folks care about one another and strive to exhibit the best of what it means to be human. But there’s always that one guy, right? There’s always that rotten apple in the barrel, that putrid potato in the cellar, that colony of mold on the loaf of bread, that illiterate third-grade bully who terrorizes the smaller kids but who’d shit his pants at the thought of harassing someone his own size.

Before deleting this person’s comment, I took a quick peek at his blog, and yeah, it was just as nasty as I imagined it would be, replete with hateful, obscene “own the libs” memes and maga propaganda. A few years ago, I ditched my Facebook and Twitter accounts for this very reason—those social media platforms have been overrun with right-wing extremists, and their owners—two of the most abhorrently evil men on the planet (Zuckerberg and Musk)–not only turn a blind eye to this maga cesspool of hatred on their sites, they also participate in it, encourage it, and rake in billions from it. And, because of this, right-wing extremism continues to thrive and spread like the cancer it is, affecting not only those still on their platforms but also those who have chosen not to associate with these anti-democracy, anti-America thugs.

I lost faith in humanity long ago. Growing up in a severely dysfunctional family in a state (Utah) dominated by a religious cult (mormonism) to which I did not belong will do that to a person. Yet…there’s a part of me that hurts when I see other people hurting, a part of me that cries out and yearns to help, to make things better, to assuage the tears and fears of my fellows here on this planet. My motto has always been “We’re All In This Together, We All Matter, We All Have Value…” But I find my compassion and resolve tested constantly nowadays by my fellow citizens here and abroad who obviously never read the memo about how to be a decent human being. And this leaves me wondering…am I wrong here? Am I an idiot for believing there is goodness in all of us? I mean, seriously? I’ve been mistaken plenty of times before when it comes to trusting people, to giving people the benefit of the doubt, and I’ve paid a heavy price more than once for my errors in judgment.

Perhaps the biggest question of all is, are these people–like the one who commented on my blog–too degenerate to be redeemed? Most religious folks will tell you there’s hope for everyone, or at least for most of us. But one needn’t be religious to hold out hope for humanity. At the same time, one must be realistic in one’s assessment of humanity, and that means recognizing that some folks are past the point of no return.

We have a “leader” who personifies the most heinous traits of the dark side of humanity, someone who has a blighted soul and no heart whatsoever, who is hellbent on destruction for the sake of destruction with no accountability at all. And this fascist felon/rapist/traitor monster has a following of at least 77 million like-minded trigger-happy cultists who will do his bidding without question, conscience or remorse. This person has now initiated an illegal, unconstitutional war with an adversary that posed no direct threat to our country, based on lies of weapons of mass destruction (jeez, where have we heard this before?), with absolutely no game plan, no permission from Congress and no consideration for how his blatantly criminal and inhumane actions will affect the world. And his legion of followers salivate at the thought.

I suppose I was right about one thing: we truly are all in this together, unfortunately.

Burn, baby, burn…

“A Few Haiku & Senryu (63)”

© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

(#373)

burning stars
pinpoints of candle light caught
in her tears

…..

(#374)

in my sorrow
my words struggle to take flight
the empty page

…..

(#375)

in my quiet world
poetry exists not in my ears
but in my heart

…..

(#376)

children played here once
now only ghosts linger
this broken world

…..

(#377)

lock the temple doors
we mustn’t let reality
taint our holy minds

….

(#378)

our humanity
bleeds out in Gaza and Ukraine
just another day

“A Poet’s Lamentation”

“A Poet’s Lamentation”
© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

pardon my sorrow
and forgive my weeping soul
my humble supplication
loosed into the void on raven’s wings
to fall on deafened ears of fickle gods

there is no recourse but to hemorrhage
wring my bleeding heart of every drop
of my wretched existence
rend the sinews from my bones
and flay me naked

in this bleakest night
‘neath the bitter howling stars
my armature gleams ghastly
pale, my dynamo has stripped its gears
my lidless eyes see all and naught at once

as galaxies cavort and novae scream
tunes atonal to eternity
and singularities gorge
on time itself, I writhe in
insignificance

what of sacrifice
what of tears that stain the path
to heaven or hell, what of
all the shattered promises, edicts
proposed to bridge sepulchral crevasses

to heal humanity, to proffer hope
all I hear is silence, all I see
are forsaken blasted lands
smoking ruins, open graves
all I feel is dread

words in lieu of souls
that is all the poets have
to lay upon the chantry
of contrition, penitence conveyed
through lifetimes etched in stone and signed in blood

a universal verse, an astral dirge
seeking meaning in obscurity
the great myst’ry locked away
far beyond my lexicon
all words have failed me

“A Few Haiku & Senryu (60)”

(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

(#355)

this sorrow
and so much left unsaid
November dusk

…..

(#356)

beyond my window
the cracks begin to show
this broken world

…..

(#357)

place my hardened heart
on the cairn of remembrance
the spoils of war

…..

(#358)

kitsunebi
lost souls seek solace
in a lost world

…..

(#359)

take my hand, November
it’s time someone showed you warmth
the hearth of hope

…..

(#360)

all these fallen leaves
and no one cares to mourn them
humanity’s disgrace

“A Few Haiku & Senryu (58)”

(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

(#343)

in these dead woods
only the storm crow
knows my name

…..

(#344)

an entire universe
in the bowl of my old hands
and still I’m alone

…..

(#345)

red-wrought destruction
right-wing nihilism wears
a death’s head grin

…..

(#346)

there’s no need for books
when guns speak louder than words
red-hat terrorism

…..

(#347)

blood on our hands
bullets don’t discriminate
another child gone

…..

(#348)

love and lenity
the earth pleads for sanity
as the bullets fly

“A Summer’s Field in Winter”

“A Summer’s Field in Winter”
(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

let us sift through summer’s solemn ashes
let us scavenge rusted hopes from twisted
hulks of yesterdays amid the swelter
and the din of frigid silence
as crows circle

this broad swath the acreage of sorrow
garden of the gods whose feckless mewling
echoes ‘cross the eons and the seasons
crumble into dust as autumn
gives up her ghost

we were never long for this cold world, this
dispensation of abominations
sunset fell before the flax had faded
bleeding out beneath indiff’rent
constellations

paradise, oh paradise eternal
dashed upon the stones of human hubris
we the stewards dined on milk and honey
as our world descended into
oblivion

thus the world was burned and we burned with it
rendered lurking shadows in the gloaming
flesh and bone have failed us as the season
of regrets approaches; we have
earned winter’s wrath

in our dreams we’ll gather wild flowers
fetch the wicker basket for the poppies
crowns of woven larkspur shall adorn us
we will rest among oak shadows
in the clearing

and when we awaken from our slumber
and when we espy the desolation
let us sift through summer’s solemn ashes
in the winter’s frigid silence
as crows circle

(Author’s Note: This poem was originally published in Chewers & Masticadores in January 2023.)

“A Few Haiku (34)”

(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

(#199)

domestic abuse
my seven-year-old self
learns to hate

…..

(#200)

sunflower song
a dirge for those
who shall never bloom

…..

(#201)

tank tracks in mud
scrawl across sunflower fields
calligraphy of war

…..

(#202)

spent brass shell casings
golden glitter in the streets
currency of death

…..

(#203)

we watch and wait
while children cry and die
thoughts and prayers are not enough

…..

(#204)

judgment day
we have no excuse for
what we have done

“She was Six”

“She was Six”
(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

she was six
and on the wrong side
of a tyrant’s bomb sights
her small broken body
no match for
the shells and the hell
that befell
her country
city
neighborhood
block
home
her blood the price
of freedom
she was six

she was six
and on the wrong corner
of the wrong intersection
at the wrong time
as gang-bangers
threw lead
and fled
as she bled
just a typical night
in a typical city
she was six

she was six
and in the wrong classroom
at the wrong school
as a true patriot
flexed his might
and exercised his 2A right
to murder school children
another day
in the USA
she was six

she was six
and the wrong color
at the wrong border
snatched from her parents
caged like an animal
lost in the system
as racist thugs
praise god and country
and build their wall
one sin at a time
she was six

she was six
and the wrong religion
in the wrong village
her captors didn’t care
she didn’t last long enough
to stain their conscience anyway
all in the name of god
she was six

she was six
and on the wrong side of town
hollow eyes and empty stomach
the manic cackle of inhumanity
the soundtrack of her life
bruised body and soul
this dark alleyway to hell
her only escape
she was six

we have lost our way