Category Archives: POLITICS

MY KNEES HURT

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My skin is now too thin.
it cracks on my feet and bleeds 

from pressure rising inside damaged knees,

throwing legs into a spin

and buckling under the strain

threatening falls again and again.

I hold on with tightened fists

gathered by my side, mislaid

and held in check, afraid

of striking out instead of balancing

against the forces dragging me down.

My body mimics my emotional gown

caught against my legs by autocratic winds

that bind my forward motion,

strangling reality and truthful notions,

knocking my legs out from under me,

demeaning my humanity

with white supremacy.

All I know is how hard it is to stand;

but, how necessary it is in order to outrun

the gerrymandering brigands

who would see democracy undone.

So, on my leg I place a brace

to hold my leg steady

while I rest upon the couch,

heal and make certain I am ready

when it is time to vote hate out.

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THE END OF AFFIRMATIVE ACTION

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Back to running the race barefoot

across dank and dirty streets

covered in the broken glass of misery

and dreams untold, unable to unfold

the promise of equality

between the shoeless forgotten humanity

and the well-shod, well-trained, well-fed

and well-funded runners 

placed feet ahead of the starting line.

The Supreme Court handles the gun

announcing the start of the run.

The race has always been fixed by race

to keep everyone in their place.

The lies continue to run free,

and destroy our dream of equality.

Turning back the race clock follows 

turning back the women’s clock

denying opportunity to overcome

the way the race has always been run.

We are in a race for our lives.

None of us should be surprised.

So, still I run. Still, I run.

Still, I run.

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HAIKU IN MY DEFENSE

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The lines were too long.

I was too busy to wait.

So, I robbed the bank.

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THE BURNING TRUTH

Photo by Cole Keister on Pexels.com

The sky is filled with smoke.

It screens what must remain unseen,

composed of tiny particles of ash

from truth burned into trash.

It spreads on currents of hot air

spewed by media quoting politicians

and those wealthy with despair.

Their heated breath fills the air.

Unhealthy fears create their positions

and policies meant to light the flames

which destroys forests, hills, and plains.

No truth is left to see.

Yet, still, truth chokes us mercilessly.

All that is left as we try to breathe free

are signs of drought and a dying democracy.

Like the phoenix, in truth we will rise 

through destructive smoke-filled skies, 

weeping tears which douse the flames.

While our nations may not seem the same,

They will be stronger, better, truer.

Their lies will be fewer.

We shall know the truth and it shall set us free.

That is the true heart of democracy.

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THE ART OF POLITICS

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Politics is performance art.

Parties pick performers to entertain

and blind us to our own innate disdain

for policies we would never entertain

if we stopped to look behind the star 

performer who’s task is to draw

our eyes from the sleight of hand

passing laws we cannot stand.

Laugh and smile at the star engaged

in fooling you in a laughing con

but also look at what goes on

behind the screen, behind the stage.

The Italian Comedians (ca. 1720) by National Gallery of Art is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0

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GROWING THE AMERICAN GARDEN

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The soil sits compact and firm,

steady and not easily moved 

in its congress with the rotation of the earth.

Nobel in its steadfastness

yet, it is unable to grow a single bloom.

A spade dug deep in its history invades

this too taut and fearfully dark space,

to expose the weeds to light with untidy grace,

disturbing the twisted roots below.

Then, those of us with seed to sow

can bend our bodies to the task

and make a garden grow.

The more diverse the seed, I say,

the happier the birds, butterflies and bees

all agog at the variety of shapes and colors

able to arise from earth disturbed and settled

around a multitude of possibilities

stodgy soil could never anticipate.

Tight-fisted earth formed under sun and shade

is made to shift and flow with uncertainty,

a new and better garden to create.

The season of change is upon us.

We must plant before it is too late.

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FOLLOW THE MONEY

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Daybreak of hearts

darkened  by fear

turned into hate

that evil may be done

in the name of protection

of women and children

pawns in the game

run by powerful men

weighed down by coin

until they can no longer run

toward the light.

So, follow the money

into darkest night

where faces are hidden

in places forbidden

to those with sight.

Coins dropped on the way

to the safe hidden away

by PACS and dark money

counted and stored before

paying the dues

for fake ads and fake news.

Follow the money.

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GARDEN OF DEMOCRACY

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Seeds have pointed ends

and sharp edges

browned and dried at rest.

Planted by strong winds

into dark soil opened

by seeds’ thin crest.

Growth and change

know no easy kindness;

strive in fierce battles to persist.

Await mere chance to emerge in sunshine

through storms and rain

from under soil’s harsh duress.

Noblesse oblige is well and good.

It fertilizes earth to grow the seed.

But it is seed which has stood

the test of winter’s snow

to make a healthy garden grow.

Strong agents of change protect

the tender plants we sow.

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SKY WARS

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Before the world lit itself up like a Christmas tree on every corner we could stand in our backyards and view the Milky Way. Now, the stars are blocked, locked away behind the haze of nights ablaze in light. We can no longer mark our place in the universe, feel the smallness of our being, as we watch the movement of stars across the sky. We can no longer mark time throughout the night. I miss the stars. As a child I spent hours lying on my back in the grassy yard watching the stars move through the sky. We begged to be allowed to sleep outside on warm nights, stringing blankets like a tent over the clothes line. We seldom slept inside the tent. It was more for Mom’s benefit than our own.

I loved the sky, the way clouds moved across it. I sometimes let myself feel earth’s rotation through the passage of stars and clouds. I recognized that stars were fixtures, and it was I who was being moved about while standing on Earth’s surface. Such thoughts were dizzying, electric, compelling. One night, my Father and his brothers gathered all of us cousins in Uncle Frankie’s yard, out beyond any city lights that we might watch the passage of The United States’ first satellite Explorer 1, a year after Russia’s Sputnik 1. Its passage times were charted daily and printed in the newspaper. We stood in a single row with parents standing behind; children and adults both in awe. I was hooked. I was 8 years old. I am still hooked at 74.

Each autumn I made a leaf book. I collected the most beautiful and perfect leaves I could find from the trees along the neighborhood alleys and iron them between pages of wax paper to preserve their color and form, then sew together the pages into a book. I preferred to pull leaves from the tree before ground insects, soil and trampling feet marred their full beauty. The autumn I was 12 I was reaching up for a bright yellow oak leaf when I noticed an object brighter than any star in the afternoon sky. It was three times as high as the jet streaking across the sky, a tiny form one-tenth its size, far below. Such discrepancy in what I had ever seen in the sky startled me. I pointed it out to the neighbor children who were following my progress and searching for leaves. We stopped and simply watched in wonder for perhaps 30-40 minutes. For the first 30 minutes or more it did not move. It simply hung there, huge and brilliant in the sun reflecting off its surface. Everything else in the sky shifted as time passed. It stayed in place. That was confusing.

The shape was also confusing. It appeared as two curved plates turned toward each other, with a smaller curved plate in the center, below the main body of the object. It was a perfectly formed “flying saucer.” We could not believe what we were seeing. Yet, we could not take our eyes off the image. Suddenly, the object moved upward in a straight line faster than we had ever seen an object move in the sky. It was not flying at any speed we could comprehend. It lingered in its position for several moments then moved even more rapidly at a right angle directly right, stopped and immediately flew straight up again. We were not strangers to how planes or even helicopters flew. This was clearly neither one of those. We gasped at each strange move, entranced at its uniques pattern. Then whoosh! It flew so fast it literally disappeared from view. The breathless chatter of our group became a crescendo of need to know what it was we had witnessed. One friend, Paula, remembered a brochure in the box her telescope came in. It had a phone number we could call. She found the brochure and we read about Project Blue Book. It included a phone number. I called.

Project Blue Book was housed at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in nearby Dayton, Ohio. An officer there took my call and said he would call back. My Mother was surprised the next day when she received a call from the officer to ask if she would allow me to meet with him and another officer at the Public Library the following day. She and Paula’s mother agreed we could meet. The two officers in military uniform met us and immediately separated us for interviews. I told my story, answered every question and drew photos to illustrate its form, position in the sky, altitude and movements. Then, I answered the questions a second time before the officers switched places. The interview resumed with repetitive questioning. At the close of the interview both officers sat with Paula and me and explained that were checking to see if our stories were consistent and true. They agreed we were truthful. They admitted we had seen what the Air Force called an unidentified flying object or UFO. The next step would take some time. More than 90% of such sightings turned out to be identifiable objects. They told us they would be checking for weather balloons, experimental flying objects of our country and of other nations.

Sometime later, the officer called to tell me what we had seen was a true UFO. They could find no explanation for what we had seen. He began sending me a monthly newsletter covering sightings around the country, some explainable, others not. I wish I had kept it. From that time on I paid attention to what we were putting up in our skies, and into outer space. I have watched the commercialization of space with concern, as the skies have become crowded without clear rules of operation worldwide. What goes up must come down and the duration of satellites and their eventual demise is a real concern for those of us on Earth below. The space race which began in 1957 has only picked up speed and, unfortunately, mass. Fortunately, NORAD, a joint effort by The United states and Canada, monitors those skies from the North Pole to Central America.

Events of the past week are not truly surprising. They are inevitable. The strategy behind the positioning of the Chinese spy balloon is interesting and worth considering. Unfortunately, Americans pay more attention to sci-fi thrillers than to facts and are more interested in movie scenarios than reality. The usual suspects are already claiming aliens are landing, one more group of “the other” to fear so white America votes hard right. Perhaps the Chinese strategy is not so inscrutable after all. Perhaps these events will awaken the world to the need to regulate the space where satellites and weather balloons claim dominance over those of us below. Keep looking up. There are challenges ahead and we must unleash imagination to meet those challenges. But, never fear. The best is yet to come.

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NOVEMBER 8, 2022

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Fear is funny that way.

Sometimes it runs hot.

Sometimes it runs cold.

Sometimes it sits and cries.

Sometimes it runs and hides

inside the mouth

under the tongue

where it is held hostage,

until it bursts forth in words

which ride on unleashed breath

in gasps and gulps

but flying free across the breach

to land on other tongues

younger, stronger, more free

to speak the truth

from mouths opened wide

whose words turn into votes

that set aside liars and their lies.

Then fear, finally, subsides.

Then words can move forward

to cool the earth,

to warm the hearth,

to fill us once again

with pride.

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