Forty winks and now
we see you,
until we don’t
lest we are mistaken
we have awakened.
The sun stays hidden
as we pretend
night is at an end,
and a new day begun.
The winking does not end.
The winking does not bend
the light enough to hide its glare
crouching low behind the clouds.
Would it be wrong to open eyes wide
on days like these
bathed in cloudy skies?
Seeing truth shining bright
might justice be the finest light.
Stop winking.
The silence is too loud.
Thoughts scream across empty space,
then follow me to bed at night
where cacaphonous dreams replace rest
and solitudinous slumber.
Limbs collide amidst the din of broad strokes
across swollen heart strings
screeching a loud lament.
Reeds explode in pressured bursts of pain,
pealing shouts across my brow.
Constant drumming throbs a meandering beat
unbalancing my feet and mind
with words best left unsaid.
Isolation breaks the rhythm of silent speech.
Music bounces off the walls of my retreat
to this empty, safe and un-crowned house.
The silence is too loud.
I cannot hear my self think my thoughts.
The lyrics repeat the same phrase
over and over and over.
When will this end so we can begin again
to dance in the streets?
And meet for brunch before the matinee ?
When can we say, “See you later today” ?
The silence is too loud.
Filed under POETRY
Chaos is sown
when history is disowned.
Hiding past hurts
may reduce pain
but allows confusion to reign.
Disinformation presses lies
against the closed eyes.
Tit for tat news myths
play fast and loose games
for ratings and sponsor’s gains.
Hold tight to truth
and the lessons of history.
In chaos, our story will end
unless we know and defend
all we have been
and could become
Filed under POETRY
The lonely artist is not a fiction but a prediction
of the lonely lover
awaiting to discover
who we are.
I do not know you, do I ?
How could I when I do not yet know myself?
I see you. I hear you.
You are there.
In your eyes I see myself
as a reflection,
with it inherent loss of my full energy
and being, lost in your gaze.
This leaves me lost and dazed.
All you give me is a reflection of myself.
It is not enough.
It lacks your energy. Your being
you keep for yourself,
leaving me alone, grasping air.
Perhaps this is why we choose
to love only those who appear
most like our selves.
Disenchanted when all we are
able to embrace
is the reflected self.
Give me your true self.
Give me your art
not something set apart,
but different from me.
This is the value of diversity.
This love beyond self
only comes when we see
more than our own reflection,
are given new energy,
the energy of you.
Fear keeps us apart.
We fear knowing who we are.
We fear knowing who you are.
Fearing if we love you,
we will only see
our lessened selves.
Filed under POETRY
The night is a thief
In broad daylight.
Forget the truth is a lie
When stated outright
In broad daylight.
Forget the con is a blight
When played out
In plain sight.
Moving the thimbles
Hiding the blight
Is thievery.
Then, change the rules
To make it all right.
Filed under POETRY
How many deaths lie at the feet
Of a man of complete
lies and depravity?
Can any human conceive
men who lack all humanity?
The Emperor Wore No Clothes
but, only the child could see
through the pomposity
to the naked truth
that we cannot trust
ourselves.
If we cannot trust ourselves,
then whom can we trust?
This is the basis of democracy.
Every vote must count.
The young ones shout it out
above the crowd of those who doubt
and wither, while justice dithers.
Have we forgotten the lessons
if middle class construction
which formed the base
of The City On The Hill,
under which the bones of slaves
are buried?
Time to Build Back Better
and bury the depraved instead.
Filed under POETRY
And so it fell,
the snow,
banished from the sky
To blend with earth
And feed the seed
of Spring.
Filed under POETRY
Busy days boost the sun
however faint his gaze.
No time to moan
his wandering ways
over the banks of snow.
Sun warms the heart
and soothes the soul
even when he strays
too far south
to take the time
to light our way.
Busy days ease our wait
for sun’s return
To grace us with his kiss
and hold our heart in his.
Filed under POETRY
Saving face
By creating truth
Is the only means of escape
From harsh reality
For those whose core
Is thinned and weak
By lack of moral exercise.
Bread and circuse
Did Rome in.
History ignored
Is repeated evermore.
Distraction through attraction
Diverts the gaze, the ear, the tongue.
This is who we live among.
Doing what is correct
Does not reflect the Right
Constantly claiming false
It’s moral might
Over those whose outrage
Threatens their control,
Their wealth, their privilege.
New faces in new places
Where they were not allowed before
Distort the world view
Of the autocratic few.
It takes strong core
Muscles to stand tall
Before the attack of falsehood
Destroys us all.
Filed under POETRY
GRIEF LINES ABOUT THE BROW
1-15-2022
I held grief at bay
in tightened fists
determined not to allow
its escape, until I lay
it down upon the page,
Where it sapped my strength.
Taking up the pen
is little help today
when the nib etches lines
of grief about my brow,
too close to allow the flow
of ink upon the page.
Democracy means more to those
More recently saved upon its shores.
The lands of autocrats and hypocrites,
we thought, had been left
behind, beyond our pained sight;
now resurrected by the Republican right.
A Right reinforced by clerics bent
on reasserting ties long rent
between church and state,
Now reinstated by the Court
and pro-life misogynist dictum
making women victims.
The Right backlash to Obama
is a fierce and hateful trauma
which dares to take away
our diversity and our vote,
our personhood and culture,
our history and democracy.
Grief is still heavy today
but less than yesterday.
Today ink flows steadily,
freely, hopefully daring leaders
to find the courage to save the vote,
and this beloved country.
annarino writes 