Category Archives: POETRY

SMALL SPACES SMALL MINDS

AI GENERATED image of Elon Musk, Tim Cook, Mark Zuckerberg

The smaller the space in the head

or in geography, or in any cartography,

The less room for challenges and new ideas.

Facts have only so much space.

They must cling fast to last.

Those who limit themselves

to live inside bubbles 

seldom recognize such troubles.

They are sure of everything

and wrong about nothing.

They have organized their small space

impeccably, intelligently, flawlessly.

So they must be as well.

They have neither time nor space to dwell

upon possible fallacy.

Only those outside the bubble can see

the absolute dangers of such insanity.

It is a new kind of mental illness

born in the stillness of active minds

revolving unchallenged by facts

that would make their theories unwind.

No such persons should be given power

over those who would see freedom flower

with a just and truthful effort, hour upon hour.

Those who live in openly-wide spaces,

who are woke to every possibility,

to every person and new discovery

are shut down and shut out

until autocracy has destroyed democracy.

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CICADAS

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Cicadas are singing an age-old announcement.

In six weeks the first frost will replace,

at least for some small time and space,

humid-heavy heated air 

and gasps for breath

with a cool-crisp 

galloping pronouncement

that Summer passes over to Autumn

all responsibility 

to foster human civility.

It has been a tough time this summer.

Climate change disordered earth’s coasts

with rising oceans and in-land flows,

a drenched earth policy

to point out the fallacy

of carbon overload.

Fire’s rages grow stronger.

We cannot ignore any longer

the impact of humanity

which seems to clasp insanity

as an entitled mother-load

to wealth and power.

Greed has become

the man of the hour.

while most of us simply strive

to find someway to survive.

The earth belongs to all, not some.

With stately haste Winter comes.

We have little faith Winter will grace

the earth with a surcease of worry.

Worry mounts with each snow flurry.

Earth shall eventually find balance.

Hopefully, we shall earn similar allowance.

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STORMY NIGHT

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STORMY NIGHT

Scattered rain was predicted.

The evening news meteorologist

calmly warned of light rain.

Instead, a wild storm came

filling the night with thunder

and meaningless blunder

as lightening broke asunder

a peaceful, if not restful, sleep.

Too wild a storm to venture out in.

A storm to set us back and shut blinds

to keep from seeing or fearing ruin.

This storm rapidly blew in 

while most of us slept.

At sunrise, when I rose, I looked outside,

finally, and see the truth.

It is not what I was told, nor surmised.

The yard is battered.

its inhabitants scattered in burrows;

the garden littered and furrowed

by limbs  dragged and cuffed.

The flag hangs upside down

until it touches the ground

in sacrilege and shame.

The flag holder has been pulled loose,

its screws unscrewed, its anchor

pulled apart and left hanging in dark space

through a night of constant turmoil,

leaving my flag drenched and soiled.

In morning light I could finally see

the upending of  democracy,

right on my front porch

where everyone could if they would

easily see. No neighbor reported

nor interceded to fix a flag so distorted.

But, false solar lights alone

across the yard ways shone,

too low-light to assess 

a flag under duress.

In morning light, in my nightgown I alight

to pull my flag up and close.

I place it upright to stand tall,

allowing the tears soaking it to fall,

that it may slowly dry out with the sky;

held by a newly installed holder,

one stronger and bolder.

I promise you this: the flag, my flag,

will soon again fly safe and free.

As will all of our beloved country.

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MONARCHS

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The monarchs are back

after an arduous journey

from, of all places, Mexico.

Monarchs will leave, eventually.

We now have a monarch in D.C.

who also road in over Mexico.

Unlike the butterfly

which sips nectar and gathers pollen

to leave the garden better and intact,

the D.C. monarch calls flowers weeds

in his obstinate refusal to face facts

and cuts every bloom in the garden back.

He leaves the soil once rich and black

lie fallow so the garden cannot grow back.

This monarch guards his new wasteland

that those who come to take his place

can plant their own seeds

of power and greed.

The monarch will leave as all men must

beneath the weight of soil, and those who lust

for power will take his place in the dead of winter,

and amidst the death of democracy inter

our constitutional republic.

Gardens need much more than monarchs to thrive.

It takes great effort to keep freedom alive.

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TECH SAVVY

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Silicon Valley controls the game

while its MAGA cheerleaders

lead us astray.

All eyes are on the cheering

and bullying ways

of Trump,Miller, Noem,

Hegseth, Witkoff ,Leavitt and Bruce

who entertain, cheer and introduce

crazy chaos and lies

to divert and divide our tired eyes

from the fields in play.

The Musk and Thiel

have taken over the field

giving JD Vance their power to wield.

CEO dictators are now all the R.A.G.E.

They are not bending knees 

with golden gifts on display;

simply, reminding the Trump 

who really controls the plays.

Never again will I say

I am not tech savvy.

I clearly see what the tech guys are about;

a complete dismantling and rout

of government, education and law

to stop future votes as they rule on their own.

They think we are stupid and feel so alone

that we would allow democracy to die.

No, we will not. That is the big lie

they tell themselves, and try to hide.

We are tech savvy. We are not leaving the field.

We will never our individual rights to bullies yield.

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NO RETREAT

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My country is not being stolen.

It is being sold to the highest bidder.

Wealth and power

are the voices of the hour.

Not unexpected 

in a consumerism frenzy

fueled by media and investors.

Capitalism has its own axes to grind.

Now, it seems to grind down me and mine.

Turning to fascism is an easy turn of face

for a people untroubled by greed and hate;

for a nation  built on slavery and Jim Crow,

and denial of women’s rights to earn and grow

at the same pace, with the same grace,

all men seem entitled to know.

Religion once again is used to shame

and disgrace anyone unwilling

to bend the knee to fake gods

and destroy all faith

in a democratic republic of equals

with equal rights to remain free

of religious bigotry.

This is an old story, one we left behind

to build a new nation inspired by the divine

rights of all men and women to be free.

Now thugs are granted bounties

to place their heels on our necks.

Military mission which once defended

is now on our own streets, its purpose up-ended.

Wealth and power which once plundered

third world nations for fossil fuel and cash

now plunders our economy and middle class.

Science  once built a solid foundation

for a healthy, productive nation.

All our scientists built is now being turned to ash.

Massive turnouts in the streets.

Massive turnout at polls complete

our voices shouting, “ no retreat! ”

“No retreat! No retreat!”

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PUTINIZATION NATION

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We now live in 

Putin’s America.

Thanks to all of you

who voted

for Trump/Vance

and every republican

in every state house

in every political position.

I could not feel more derision

for you and what you do

every day you stay

silent,

unapologetic,

absolutely pathetic.

A country I thought you loved

more than you hated

women and people of color,

the disabled, war veterans,

children and the elderly,

homosexual and transgendered.

I underestimated your greed.

I underestimated your need

to make yourself

feel better than someone,

than anyone,

else.

I lost your pulse.

My bad!

And, I know you blame me,

and every liberal,

compassionate,

forward thinking

person you see.

So, you bend the knee

and deny democracy

its rightful place

in American History.

Our loss is Putin’s gain.

Your patriotism

has always been feigned.

Mine, yet remains.

My country may not.

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THE RAINS CAME AND CAME AND CAME

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We keep thinking

it cannot become any worse

this placid earth 

awash in excess or in drought.

Hibiscus big as dinner pates

strung among drenched leaves,

hangs in drooping loops to the ground.

Sun makes its way warily

through clouds weighing the sky down,

new-born leaves water-logged and drowned.

The heavy weight of watered threats

is nearly too much to bear.

Too heavy to breathe, saturated, air

keeps me waiting inside,

Parched lips and  dry-aged skin

too thin to accept such weight again,

hangs loose, losing all pride;

jealous of the hibiscus

which still stands tall

strong enough to resist it all.

I anxiously await a break in the clouds,

days of hope and rest in the sun.

Even the earth is in tears these days.

Like a child I hold my sign and sing aloud

“Rain, rain, go away. Come again

another day.” Or not. Never again

should we women and men

so misbehave and reduce our gardens to tears.

Photo by Mariya B. on Pexels.com

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BEGGING FOR WORDS

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How is it

that when silence

seems treason

words resist?

When resistance

seems patriotic

words run away

to a hidden place

even poets

cannot find,

to my disgrace.

I do not fear

my words will 

cause me harm.

I fear I shall harm

my words.

I fear I will harm

my very soul.

I fear words so full

of anger, even hate

shall ruthlessly escape.

So, I shut the gate.

Today, I try to climb

above the world enflamed

by bullies with no shame

and view the world

I once knew.

A world sublime

but not perfect,

trying to be better,

trying to do better,

trying to achieve better

for every single soul.

This is the world of old.

Knowing the past

is good as gold.

Lingering in the past

will not help us be bold.

And being bold I am told

is what brings change,

topples bullies and their ilk,

eases harm and soothes

like a glass of warm milk,

after a harrowing hundred days.

I beg words to come out of hiding.

I beg for law and order abiding.

I beg for the wealthy to fund the fight.

I beg for police and soldiers to do what is right.

I beg for teachers to speak truth and empower.

I beg for journalists and media not to cower.

I beg for leaders to seize the moment.

I beg for clergy to calm the torment.

I beg for the silent to speak aloud.

I beg for neighbors to support each other.

I beg for words to shout together.

I beg for words.

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THREE HUGS A DAY

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The need for connection

upon reflection

explains the violence

unleashed in silence

within the soul, combined

with alienation of the mind.

Touch is such a powerful greed.

Three hugs a day is all we need.

Yet, too many wait endlessly

for a single, tender touch, daily.

If love does not connect us over too many days

we struggle to find connection in other ways.

The eyes of the lonely tell a story

of diminished worth, and the loss of glory

that belongs to every human being,

and keeps us from loving and truly seeing

the lonely person cowering inside;

afraid to show their loss of pride.

Shouting never brings us closer.

Flying fists simply make us cower.

Violent words have hurtful power.

We hide away from the course force

of those afraid to share lonely discourse.

Hugs would be better

to bring us together.

You may think this only a woman’s view.

I assure you men need hugs, too.

So, hug three people today.

Do not let false pride get in your way.

Thus, three hugs will come to you

and peace may one day be renewed.

Photo by Agung Pandit Wiguna on Pexels.com

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