Nightmares roam freely
while voters watch fearfully
death of a nation.
Category Archives: POETRY
ONLY AUTUMN KNOWS
Only Autumn Knows where and when
she will end.
Each morning seems earlier than the last.
Sun sets earlier than summer-days past.
Dawn delays rising while I do not.
Sleep steals in easier despite afternoon naps.
Time ceases to be set by my clock.
Circadian rhythms have been unlocked.
I fall into Autumn’s wind-swept arms,
happily blown in, after the Equinox.
I rise in the dark to write poetry and prose.
What is revealed only Autumn knows.
Yawns precede each word and phrase,
happy to explore Autumn’s up-ending by-ways.
Filed under POETRY
SING A SONG OF FREEDOM
https://www.pbs.org/video/sing-democracy-250-rob7ge
Freedom is our right.
Voting shows our might.
Sing a song of freedom.
Sing it strong.
Sing it long.
Voters sing along with me.
Lift the voice of liberty.
The few who would silence us
will rock and roll before they fall
in silent loss and agony.
Despots and bullies cannot withstand
the voices of power and the sound
of voting levers in musical chorus
ringing across the future before us.
Freedom lovers hold your ground
against kings and tyrants,
who despite their might,
cannot dance to freedom’s sound.
Vote with music and dance at the polls.
Let freedom ring as despots fall
before the song of freedom loud and clear.
Freedom lovers hold America dear,
and lift her in song written in blood and tears
for these past 250 years.
Sing a song of freedom.
Sing it strong!
Sing it long!
AMERICAN RENAISSANCE
The dark ages were not dark everywhere.
Light shown to the East, the South, and the West
while Europe cloaked itself in dark days;
as The United States of America does now.
Even camera crews have turned off light and sound.
And evil men and women try to rebound
by creating their own clown-faced muse
with his crypto, coins, twitter, and TV news.
These wanna-be strong-men turn away from the Light of Truth
forsake the Bill of Rights’ light once so very bright
with promise by all, for all, and to do all things right.
We watch all systems fail across airports,
roads, water plants, farm fields, schools and hospitals
and death becomes unleashed by ICE men
playing false as con-men overrule the Rule of Law.
Their appointed judges enact The Rule of Flaw
This may be America’s final straw;
judges sitting in dark court rooms
unable to see what facts there be
so precedence can be overruled
and lights kept turned off, but not for all.
January 6 criminals, rapists, pedophiles, and fraudsters are free
to roam in darkness so deep we cannot see
that none of us is allowed to remain free.
None of us are safe from deportation
to an unknown country, or to our own private hell
here in our own homes, on our own streets,
within our universities and our own communities.
The lights seem to be growing dim
as Dark Ages descend again.
Artists can paint, sculpt and write in the dark.
They see more clearly what is, and imagine what can be.
Their imagery is lightened within dreams and memory.
A new Renaissance can overcome such darkness.
It did so once. It can, again.
There should be no return to the old days, but a rebirth
of those ideals sought enacted by people of Earth,
when our constitution, its amendments and Judicial Act
were put in placed to support a Bill of Rights
to overcome dark night and shine a brilliant Light
across an entire world. Peasant freedom unfurled.
The work of artists is to bring forth light and right;
a Renaissance of love and peace, respect for all;
and, the courage to make things right.
Art and artists’ dreams dispel, like a liars’ tell,
shining light in the depths of these dark nights.
AUTUMN NIGHTS
Nights are too short, dear
when you are here.
Nights are too long
when you are gone.
Morning weeps humidity.
Birds sing sad songs.
Bees wander aimlessly.
The sun hides a weary face.
Voices sound too loud.
Emptiness becomes full measure
of the hearts lost treasure.
Garden critters stay hidden.
Fruit on the vines wither,
bitten open, useless, forbidden.
Your leave-taking reminds.
The world can be coldly unkind.
You rose with the dawn.
Showered, and now, are gone.
Filed under POETRY
BLIND EYES
So enamored of myself am I
that I do not see you
though I look you in the eye,
all sincerity belied.
When I face you so confidently
the only one I see is me,
reflected back clear as can be.
Every charge I make against you
is really my confession.
I speak with such aggression
to hide all fase impressions
lest you take the time to think.
I use the fear I sense you feel,
reflected back at me,
in a never-ending loop;
which only makes me more afraid
to ever acknowledge you.
I must seize your power for my own.
It is the only way I can survive.
I can only live my life
if I steal yours
Your life or mine?
There is but one answer.
It is why you take my side.
It is why fear makes you hide
any conscience you once knew.
I will always be watching you.
I love watching myself.
All narcissists are blind; you see.
TAGLINES
My dreams have taglines; colored lights forming words,
scrolling across the bottom or the top
to awaken a sleeping brain.
Sometimes, bold sentences
within thick-lined boxes to draw attention.
My tired body sometimes fails to notice or understand
the insights my vivid dreams demand.
As I dreamt last night and viewed my last scenes
a box appeared with a message to be gleaned:
TO GO FORWARD IT IS OFTEN BEST TO LOOK TO THE PAST
WHERE YOU HAVE BEEN BEFORE.
And, then, I awoke to my here and unformed now
wondering what part of past
informs a future built to last.
Dreams leave clues like any good mystery.
Dreams fragment history.
Dream introduce me to strangers
who tell their stories, and not my own.
I wake confused yet excited to explore
the fading dream some more.
I turn on lights to brighten the dark morning,
awaiting a breathless sunrise
to seep beneath shades hiding the night,
which might bring surprises to my door.
It is difficult to see a future
when these days are so dark.
Dreams tell me to see clearly
my future relies upon seeing my past.
I search each dark corner
with a flashlight in my hand.
If I can see what brought me here,
where I now wonderingly stand,
I can see a future brighter than indignation,
more solid than fearful imagination.
A future where strangers’ stories become my own,
and I can grow from seeds I have sown
in the dark soil, now,
so well known.
Filed under POETRY
WHISPERS
Comfort is undersold.
Passion, unlike us,
never gets old.
When age exceeds
the body’s needs
comfort remains
as we enfold
hearts and souls
amidst limbs entwined
whispering I am yours,
and you are mine.
Filed under POETRY
IN THE RING
Simply waiting will not do at all.
When did simply waiting
accomplish anything at all?
Yogis pose in silent waiting,
fingers touching in connection.
While we who simply wait
have no connection at all,
and lose ourselves
in self-destruction when we fall
within the ring where the fight is set
by the one percent and big tech bros
placing their weight and cash
heavily upon our backs
until the fight is so unfair
we realize we have not a prayer.
Church pews sit empty.
The fight is on every screen.
We fail to realize we are in the ring.
We cannot simply watch the fight.
Simply waiting cannot make all right.
We will go down with the count
toppled by high winds, fire, and flood.
The severe cold will freeze life’s blood.
Recognize we are in the fight.
We have always been in, to our chagrin,
fighting for our very lives;
while being entertained to silence
and static acceptance of violence.
Simply waiting did not stop slavery,
Jim Crow, voter suppression, child abuse,
sexual harassment and women’s subjugation.
This has always been the fight of our nation.
This is not a new fight we watch as battles
in the ring to see which latest victim falls.
We cannot simply watch from the sidelines
because it is us inside the ring.
It is we who shall fall.
We the people shall participate.
We the people shall win or lose.
Do not sit in your corner.
Don’t throw in the towel.
Get up and fight. It is not too late.
Then get to the polls and vote to win.
All bets are on you. Gloves at the ready, and grin!
Then prepare for the backlash,
one worse than the one before.
Get in the fight again.Knock your opponent to the floor
with such a strong vote he cannot rise.
Put him down for the count forevermore.
Then raise your gloves high and stand tall.
Simply waiting will not do at all.
MONEY, MONEY, MONEY
Money counts for nothing.
It has no intrinsic worth,
these tiny bits of metal
dug, then foundered from the earth.
Money adds no value to our lives.
Its value lies outside its cost to self.
Its only value is what it tells us.
Money talks after all.
It tells us what we truly value,
whom we raise up, and whom we let fall.
We bet our future on its use,
or bury it in secure vaults.
We use it to boast about greatness
while it hides our basest faults.
It buys the things around us.
It buys the myth of our safety.
It serves to remind us
we are nothing at all;
but, tiny specks in a universe
among many millions just like us,
trying to rise while gravity pulls us
around and down giant black holes.
Money fools us, a tool that uses us,
while we think we rule over others
just like us.
So, we gather it as best we can
to show we are better than
our fellow woman or man.
We cannot rely upon our own souls
to bring wisdom, love and life,
to end the useless strife.
We buy bullets instead of bread.
We drop bombs instead of supplies.
We destroy earth instead of fear.
We believe our own and others’ lies.
Money becomes our grand prize.
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