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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HAIKU JUNE 7

New page. Empty life.

Ink stains and blood drains away.

New life. Page fills up.

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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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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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MEMORIAL DAY

Another morn to mourn,

turned celebration.

Will we one day celebrate

School Shooting Day ?

Or maybe NRA Day?

How can we play 

on such a solemn day?

Shared memory is great

but a hot dog on a paper plate

should not take precedence

over remembrance

of what this day is for.

A day to study war no more

thanks to soldiers who gave

their all to their graves,

to save us from more days like this.

Today’s war goes unannounced

by fearful citizens who hate 

the way they feel, 

intimidated by the success 

of those they thought to best.

So they don a Kevlar vest

and in camouflage dress

tote weapons of war

inside the door

of churches, synagogues, mosques,

schools, businesses, and grocery stores.

Name-calling as in any war

has become de riguer.

So-called Libtard Nazis who see no threat

in people of color, women and gender choice

are the latest gooks and towel heads.

War leaves a nasty taste in place

of citizenry and mutual respect.

So-called patriots ignorant of our history

ignore the blood of our honored dead

buried in poppied fields or unknown tombs.

They fight for white supremacy instead

of a country dedicated to the proposition

all men are created equal 

as its starting position. 

They seek to stop the race

to a more perfect union

by destroying the communion

of patriots future and past.

How long will such travesty last?

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Second Amendment

The conception that unrestricted gun ownership is guaranteed by the 2d. Amendment is a false idea. from discussions recorded by those present as the Constitution was being approved and amendments voted upon indicate that the 2d. Amendment’s purpose was to allow for militias. Our militia SYSTEM is controlled by governors of each state, allowed to arm their citizens in a National Guard, under the federal government’s authority. It had nothing to do with an individual right to bear any and all arms. It was enacted to allow for state militias. Governments-local,state-federal can restrict individual gun purchases, manufacture, and ownership. The idea they cannot do so was constructed by the NRA only recently to improve gun sales, (think of the payoffs ),to sow dissension (funded by Russia), and to uphold white supremacy and control African-Americans who had gained the right to vote and gained more power after the Civil Rights Movement.  Fear of people of color is ingrained in white Americans.  This is a tool to manipulate us. Also, as immigrants  from white Europe declined and immigrants of color increased NRA played on the fear of white Americans. Gun sales shot up. The Republican Party which in recent history opposed civil rights for African-Americans, affirmative action, integrated schools etc. embraced the NRA’s position to advance an agenda which would protect Republican vote and control of the levers of government. NRA funds support these republicans, and a few democratic politicians also accepting the easy money. 

Take a moment to think about this and connect the dots. Our children should not be pawns for this white supremacy agenda. Look at the position on guns by candidates at EVERY level. Those claiming they can not do anything about gun regulation because of the 2d Amendment are liars. Vote them out. Always ask them their position on the 2d amendment. If they lie about that they are lying about a lot more. I am on my knees begging like Sen. Chris Murphy, “save our children.” Do not let white supremacy destroy the safety a single person. Do not stand by and silently watch. speak with your friends and colleagues. Beg them if necessary. 

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Filed under COMMENTARY, POLITICS

PATTERNS ET.AL.

PATTERNS

Patterns tell stories

usually hidden from view.

Each morning I rise

and pick up my pen,

put it to paper

to see what thoughts

descend.

Today, a series of thoughts

seem attuned to one another.

Four poems gathered

but refused to do more

than make me yearn

for words to return

and tell a story

to help me learn

something.

Anything.

Perhaps putting them in a row

will eventually show

what they are trying to tell me.

so, here, I go.

SAVED  BY THE GARDEN

Saved again by the Garden.

Its views extend my own.

Who knows what will become

of the seeds I have sown.

Better to focus on new life

than to reflect on the old.

RUNAWAY

Hurry to the table.

Pick up the pen.

Let thoughts descend

before I pick up a comb,

wash  my face,

or even get dressed.

The words run off

too fast for any of that.

I struggle to catch the words

before they are lost

in mundane tasks.

Today, I was too slow.

DISAPPEARING ACT

Where do words go

when they run from me?

To another poet?

To another essayist?

Are they too uncomfortable to tell 

the truths I know so well?

Is the runner the words, 

or is it I who run 

away from words ?

LOST DREAM

A blast of cold air

swept over the sheets

and awakened me too soon

before the dawn

grew bright enough 

to see within the darkened room.

I could not see  the words today.

I only felt the cold and felt bereft

that the dream had gone.

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