Pitbulls running free
unleashed among the children
chained to safety.
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.
Filed under POETRY
HAIKU Finding Beauty
FINDING BEAUTY
Beauty too often
lies beneath passion’s control
if we can let go.
Filed under POETRY
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.
Filed under POETRY
HAIKU JUNE 7
New page. Empty life.
Ink stains and blood drains away.
New life. Page fills up.
Filed under Uncategorized
PENTECOST IN THE GARDEN
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.
Filed under POETRY
GENEOLOGY
Something in the blood calls my name.
The call brings neither glory nor shame.
We are connected but not the same.
Blood calls across all boundaries
from oceans crossed; and, all centuries
lost before I came to be by name.
Family traits, fair and foul, remain.
There is a knowing-ness difficult to explain.
Friendships are just as dear but not the same.
Something in the blood calls my name.
Filed under POETRY
FIXING THE DECK
Seasons change. Pandemics, too.
The same can be said for me and you.
We move about under a sunny sky
pretending all around us others do not die.
The deck carpet is covered in grime
from the years of corporate and political crime
committed by a party trapped in hate
wrapped in false flags that falsely state
women are are meant to be slaves
just as Black people, and all lesser knaves,
to their betters who wear red hats marked by lies,
under white robes hidden by suits and ties.
We try to clean the deck but the carpet is too worn
to survive another summer of overheated scorn.
The carpet has been removed to reveal
The rot beneath efforts to steal
not just an election but a nation.
Seeing the bare deck reveals the aberration
of rotten boards, installed by fraud and deceit
like judges and executives placed in lead seats.
Boards of all varieties falsely secured or not at all,
and easily shredded like their theories which call
for insurrection and destruction instead of restoration
of democracy and legal protections and right actions.
The deck is so undermined I fear it will fall.
No more summers in the sun with family and friends
until the rotted deck is replaced and Republicans make amends.
RIGHT TO LIFE
There is nothing to negotiate.
There is no need for compromise.
Either Americans deserve safety.
Or their lives are an easy forfeit
for gun manufacturers to “make a killing”
and pay off with campaign funds
those who use delay to deny
the basic right to Life, Liberty
and the Pursuit of Happiness.
No one is free if unrestrained guns
deny safety. No happiness ensues
from mass killings, suicides
or neighborhoods riddled with bullets
on the nightly news.
Life itself is not something
to be debated nor negotiated.
Pass the laws needed to save lives.
A living death from fear of guns
kills more than us.
It kills any chance for democracy
itself to survive.
It kills our hope and faith in one another.
More guns. More killing.
Who can deny such basic logic
and expect us not to say “idiots”?
There is no compromise with idiots.
The only thing more idiotic
is to vote for those idiots.
Filed under POETRY
WORDS
Are words without heart more marketing than art?
Is there any assurety my words sit on your lips
with the same joy they sit on mine?
I count on words to keep us all alive.
Or is it false security to believe in such vanity?
I sit quietly, in meek wonder at the power of words
to turn a cheek against a blow,
or use a laugh to turn aside sorrow.
As I await inspiration words flow.
I wonder how this can be so.
What is life but waiting to know?
What is hope but a quickening of spirit?
What is faith but a breath in and breath out?
What is love but accepting whatever comes about?
Has life any purpose or is it merely aspiration?
Is life simply our imagination?
Without imagination can we survive?
Can any nation?
I wait.
I breathe.
I accept.
I imagine.
I survive.
Filed under POETRY
annarino writes 