Category Archives: POLITICS

KEEP LAUGHING

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Earth is laughing so hard 

she is holding her sides.

Her laughter has not died.

She holds it inside.

Too often, there is not a smile to be seen.

Comedians and laughter are under attack; 

sad attempt to kill laughter, it is true.

But, let me tell you

I awake every day with a smile on my face

and my mind full of plans and laughter as I cope;

planning strategies to keep us all woke

enough to strategize and energize

enough to keep Earth and our freedom alive.

I smile when I find new ways

to resist, persist and overcome

those who strive so hard to make us glum.

Where they see threat, I see possibility.

Where they feel fear, I feel connected community.

When they shout their pain, I shout my glee.

Earth trembles to keep her laughter inside

at the foolish ego-maniacal MAGA leaders’ pride.

Earth continues to teach us her lessons

with a smile on her face from sunrise to sunset.

Giving us the means to keep us alive, and all our needs met.

Balance and connection are what we need

to continue on the path to wealth without greed.

Intersected boundaries are what we need

to continue on the path to true peace.

This is Earth’s greatest gift: her instinctive ability

to make us laugh as we grow in humility,

knowing we cannot berate nor control

Earth’s power to grow, to heal and renew

the damage men and women unintentionally do.

I laugh aloud with Earth today.

Our guffaws and chuckles thrown out wide.

Come laugh with us, then; and hold your heaving sides.

Try to unbend and dry your eyes so you can see.

That laughter has not died, nor ever must.

Constant negativity has nowhere to go

except “dust to dust” buried below,

in the space laughter has made deep within Earth.

And once this doom and gloom comes to an end

the entire world united in mirth 

shall laugh once again.

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WHERE HAS LOVE GONE?

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I do not know where love has gone.

Into hiding, I believe, free from harm.

So much anger clothed in love’s costume,

hate hidden from view so I am not consumed

by the true nature of what the costume hides;

all except the hands fisted by my side,

which velvet-suaded gloves still reveal

all the angry violence I could wield,

if I were not so terrified of the pain

I could visit upon others. I refrain.

I refuse to become just like those

who name-call with fake smiles and pose

under crosses, and above crowds,

saying the the ugly hate-filled truth out loud.

I desperately try to maintain my balance.

I believe compassion bears no allowance

to strike back when under attack.

But, turning the other cheek is a trait I truly lack.

Never take a punch and not fight back, I heard dad say.

But, never start the fight, if you can safely walk away.

Is this where we are now, afraid to put up the fists

when the attack is scheduled on government lists?

How long do we wait for the blows to fall?

How far before we are imprisoned inside the wall

of government ordnance and secret police?

How will we ever know any peace?

I do not know where love has gone.

I search and I search for however long

it will take me to find it and hold it tight

while I build strength for the coming fight.

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SHOUTING OUT IN THE HALL

The voices are too loud out in the hall.

No one sitting solemnly inside 

can understand the meaning of it all.

No matter how close one tries to listen

the cacophony distorts all meaning

of words angrily shouted, until tears glisten

feeling the hatred and monstrosity

which keeps all ears and hearts enthralled.

Thrills and chills sell as well as bloody gore.

“If it bleeds it leads” is a phenomenon 

we know too well. 

Shouters point a finger and shout some more.

Such behavior always draws a crowd.

Once they have your attention

the “soft-sell” begins the con in whispers.

And while they have your keen  attention,

hanging on every word they mention

in the twisted story, repeated over and over,

using religion and love as a cover

to bring us to our knees to beg forgiveness,

they try to manacle our minds and tongues

if successful. If not, our hands and feet

in courtrooms, jail cells and on the streets.

Once all this is done, the coup is complete.

The Bill of Rights becomes an empty promise,

a useless piece of paper torn asunder,

while disingenuous voices thunder

in all the halls, in every building, across the nation.

It is when the voices stop we shall finally hear

that democracy has been lost, as we all feared.

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THE DAWN OF DISCONTENT

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Darkness has not yet lifted

from the night of a waning moon.

This is the time of discontent

when one feels most alone, but soon,

the sun shall rise.

Others choose to sleep through darkness.

I cannot. Like a lone wolf,

I choose to stay awake, woke to wonder

hidden in all I yet may discover

in people and places I have never known.

I plant seeds of yearning in my soul

that love may take root and grow

beyond my own cultural limits,

beyond the bounds of all I know.

I try to stay awake, though weary,

to watch the new day dawn.

As it surely will.

As it surely will.

As it surely will.

Turn three times and make a wish.

I wish to fearlessly face the heat of these days

with cool calm and laughter so strong

it awakens the entire world.

Will the new dawn reveal 

that which was destroyed

while an entire nation slept?

This question is what makes some people

sleep the whole day long.

Their eyes appear open, but they sleepwalk;

perhaps hoping they are dreaming

and the day is a mere nightmare

from which they will soon awake.

I cannot pretend. Not I.

Even in the dark my eyes open wide.

I must see what darkness has wrought.

I tend to the garden I have created,

to the life of growth I have sought,

as the sun rises over roots sorely stressed.

I cannot allow the plants, nor my self, to die

even though they can no longer thrive.

I am awake in the dark, but not alone.

So long as I see clearly, if not cheerily,

the life of other living things all around me

resisting the threat in the day ahead and hanging on.

Sensing our togetherness is what makes us strong.

I watch the discontented dawn.

The sun continues to rise.

As will you. As shall I.

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NOT A LOOKING GLASS, NOR WINDOW

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I see you looking through the glass

aghast.

As Alice in Wonderland you fear

falling down rabbit holes.

We all do.

You think the glass is a window.

It is a door.

You seem not to know

it can open for you.

A small push against the lash

can open the way

to a world where anything

is possible.

Everything is now in play.

The old ways are falling away

pushed aside by fearful elements

with false ego and too much pride.

They lie to create a place to hide.

No door is too strong to block you.

You are an American voter.

Your vote holds sway.

Yes, I see the barricades

being put in place, more every day.

Your strength, dear voter, 

comes in numbers so strong

they cannot hold the door closed too long.

Once through the door

we clean the debris away.

Americans living in the light of truth;

we light our own way.

American voters will have their say.

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THE GAME IS OVER

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It is hard to stop this rush toward self-destruction

by a nation so far ahead in the race

no one else could compete and play.

There is no reason to mourn the last mile run

in a race no longer any fun

for any but a very few, 

and fewer still each day in play.

We all know American’s greatest sin

is loving nothing better than a game they can win.

When winning is no longer fun 

we look for someone to blame, and make them pay

for reminding us the game is over

and a new game must be put in play.

And, so, we blamed Joe,

who simply, in so many ways, happened to be

the last leader to toss away the final play.

No one has been a winner since,

nor could be since that final day.

A new game cannot be worth our while

if the top few are the only winners.

The old game with so many losers may be over.

But, we Americans are not over the need to play

a game we all can win,

a game we call Election Day.

Let the new game begin!

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SHARED SHAME

Do you see the military

roaming city streets?

It is not my imagination

we are a threatened nation

about to lose our liberty.

The military which was once

our department of defense

against outside enemies

has turned its face within.

Now, it is the department of war

against those it would once defend.

We saw this coming.

We raised the alarm.

You answered with smarmy charm

that both sides do it.

What “it”? I ask. 

I do not make war against you.

I build no fence to enclose you

in concentration camps 

and jail cells with no chance of bond,

nor due process, nor rule of law.

You do all this and more.

You call me names to intimidate

and threaten my peace, my livelihood.

You take away my safety net, my health,

my happiness, my freedom to speak

and resist you. You call me your enemy

to justify your willingness

to let the constitution be tossed aside.

you no longer have integrity nor pride.

You can only feel shame if you have pride.

And you have no shame.

But, I…

I have enough pride for two;

enough to be ashamed of you.

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SILENCE

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The walk around the neighborhood is strangely silent.

Cicadas have ceased their songs of warning.

Birds flock south on gentle winds 

leaving the yard yearning for music.

Butterflies still sing with quiet wings 

few can hear.

Gnats and flies loosely lie low 

as caterpillars hold on tight

to leaves of flowers seeding through colder nights.

The angle of the sun has moved us

as we turn around a sun now calmed.

Its bright displays over too-hot days are over-done.

The silence grows as the cold days come on.

Longer shadows of neglect disclose

the weeds who hid in too-bright light.

We now face ever-longer nights.

Is this the calm before winter’s storms?

Are we watching the loss of every norm?

Or have we become so compliant

we fail to even notice the silence?

The neighborhood is strangely silent

as I keep vigil, and hold fast against violence.

Silence, silence. So much uneasy silence

one wants to scream and shout so loud

windows open wide in surprise 

to see what all the fuss is about.

Footsteps march around the block.

Even they are too silent to unlock

the energy sapped by summer’s too-hot heat.

We are just too tired to compete

with the silence, silence. So much silence.

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THE PERFECT STORM

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We are in the midst of a perfect storm.

Those who seek perfection, especially

a perfection to match themselves,

which they consider the norm,

relish the chaos which leads astray

a nation once dedicated to the proposition

that “all men are created equal 

and endowed by their creator with the right

to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

What a lovely concept in sunny weather,

on a clear blue day.

But, those seeing red over perceived imperfection

cannot tolerate those who refuse to let the imperfect

get in the way of the possible.

They prefer to cut programs and taxes,

to keep their money in their own pockets,

show their personal largesse to those deemed worthy.

If only, they could see their own imperfections clearly.

We would not be in this frightful storm.

The winds of fascism and authoritarianism stir wildly

every manner, moral tome, and rule of law, and norm.

The rain of terror by masked militia in our streets

is more costly than housing the homeless,

feeding the hungry, educating our young people

who live with expectations of defeat.

The young see their pursuit of happiness and their freedom

being washed away, with inequality laid at their feet.

I do not believe in perfection. 

There are few perfect days.

Clouds are born by winds unseen 

shadowing perfection and laying it aside

while violent storms brew.

I do not seek the impossible. 

It is too costly and uncontrollable.

I know no policy nor program is perfect, as is no man.

Nothing makes us greater than to simply understand

we are all flawed human beings doing the best we can.

There can be no apology for silently marveling 

and supporting these dark days.

The perfect see no reason to apologize

for the greater wisdom of their ways.

We are left to raise umbrellas 

to protect as many as we can.

But, umbrellas are no match for perfect storms

created by our fellow man.

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