Category Archives: POETRY

History

History is not a resume

Listing only accomplishments.

History is a review of conscience

Considering how to avoid mistakes

Past made; a future planned.

History done right breaks hearts

Imparts hard truths

Demands change.

History is our only hope

For a better future

For real pride in holding accountable

Who we were and what we have done

History allows new beginnings

On different paths

To greater success

Than we can imagine.

Without history we lack the power

To get off the merry-go-round

Which circles back in endless

Rounds going nowhere.

Teach me history.

Tell me the truth.

Show me the honest

Thus only safe

Way forward.

The lies make me dizzy.

I trip on the lies.

I fall behind.

I get angry and fearful

Because I cannot keep up

With the resume stating only part

Of who and what I am.

Another part of me is missing

And I cannot feel whole.

Lies break me apart.

I need a history that demands

A way to balance so I can

Stand for something

Something truly grand

A person accountable

Is a person of account.

Teach me full history. Good and bad.

Let me become that man.

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TESTIMONY OF HEROES?

Nice of you to stop by for a chat.

Heroes? I think not; although,

you would like us to believe it so.

Your ambition still rules my derision

for the complicit decisions

you made to keep in place

a criminal of such disgrace

he had to be impeached twice.

He is more than simply “not nice.”

And you stayed silent for more than four

years of actions deplored

by anyone with a care for humanity.

Sheer insanity was not his alone.

This is something you, too, own.

What if you had gone to the news

with all the facts you  knew ?

Would there have even been a coup?

The blame is not his alone.

It also falls on non-heroic you.

Photo by Lila Sterling on Pexels.com

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FAHRENHEIT 100

Another day stowed away

behind blinds and shades.

Temperatures soar in humid waves

as power grids fail day after day.

Brave crews I toast,

working hard as they roast,

laboring on lines to restore

the comfort we take for granted.

For granted, no more

as climate alters patterns of yore.

Excessive heat drenched in storms

with wild winds galore

bearing Earth’s pain on each blow.

Too cold in Winter.Too hot in Summer.

Spring and Autumn lie low.

Earth may be restored;

but, will we remain?

Feel earth’s pain.

It is now our own.

Photo by Ralph W. lambrecht on Pexels.com

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COLD ANGER

There is a stubbornness

which chills the soul;

no blanket heavy enough

to warm a heart

when words freeze love

dropped by tears into puddles

of remorse and fear

now frozen and slippery

enough to drop lovers

to hard earth and hard truths

which shatter hearts

like frozen glass

hit by rocks of heated rage.

Stubborn hearts, 

stubborn thoughts

in need of greater warmth to thaw.

Heated passion has its place.

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HAIKU

No compromise enough

when guns survive a delay

to kill tomorrow

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HAIKU School Shootings

Pitbulls running free

unleashed among the children

chained to safety.

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THE ROAD UP

Why do words constrict the flow

of words in the mouths of a few

with money to burn.

How are those without cash to learn

what they need to know?

Such lies do burn

and cut

and turn

the truth around,

stomp it to the ground

hide truth in a burial mound

bathed in silence

except for the shouts

of those now on fire

with a true desire

to tell the truth

to follow the truth

wherever it leads.

Such a path may be difficult

but, it always leads up.

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HAIKU Finding Beauty

FINDING BEAUTY

Beauty too often

lies beneath passion’s control

if we can let go.

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THE REAL COUP D’ETAT

I missed the windows today.

The blinds are closed.

Caught inside myself.

Blinds drawn against the sight

of growing night

despite the dawn

of disclosed truths

in public hearings

which left me in tears.

The news is not new.

We all knew it 

if we had been watching

or listening

or caring.

Hiding in plain sight

is a criminal’s defense

to guilt

when repetition

gone unpunished

becomes mundane

or is so raw

that some pretend

the windows are not dirty,

not in need of washing clean.

Pretending night is all there is.

Pretending night is enough

to see by.

Who needs light?

Continuing in darkness

leaves us all blind.

Soon, there will be no need

to close the blinds.

We will all be left

in the dark.

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PENTECOST IN THE GARDEN

No tongues of fire descend 
upon the garden where all is taught
by unseen tongues of Spirit
renewing the earth again and again
and again, in the constant flow of grace
upon the garden’s sacred space.
The garden teaches all we need to know
to bless the firmament below
the heavenly eons of space.
For centuries upon centuries it has been so.
But, now, no single tongue of fire
but a barrage of flame grows higher and higher
singeing petals as they unfurl to blistered beauty
and charring roots buried below
the surface of our understanding
as children are destroyed by overheated
need for power and greed.
Pentecost, indeed! our prayers rise up
as our Hope ascends, promising rebirth
to take His place as Spirit descends.
Will we listen to the warnings from the NOAA
that 1% of the wealthiest emit more than twice
the amount of CO2 as the poorest 50% of humanity?
Greed holds the reins of Spirit as it descends.
To believe the 1% will change voluntarily is inanity.
The garden waits and hopes for gentle rain
to end the drought of human concern
for a return to saner policies to make our gardens grow
with abundant Grace to stem the flow of hunger,
poverty and fear. For more shade from trees
grown strong enough to handle any breeze
and create a safe space to put down our guns;
and, provide a place for all to wander in peace
with greater love and harmony.
This the garden teaches, from the first to the last.
Spirit renews the earth only if we let it.
We cannot simply let the moments pass.

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