LETTER TO EARTH

Good morning, Earth.

You are still here

harboring fragile lives

and all they hold dear.

We have forgotten our friendship,

stayed silent for too many years.

Silent while your virgin forests

were raped and cleared.

Silent while your fields became poison

farmed in chemical warfare.

Silent when your fields’ waters ran off

to your rivers where your fish died.

Silent as viruses you had hidden from view

escaped your now weakened ties

that once bound them unable to harm us,

your dear friends, causing alarms

which trounced us awake to our loss.

Silent as oil and gas heated your breath

bringing fire, floods and storms, 

illness, war and death.

Silent no more as Putin threatens 

your nuclear destruction.

Silent no more as Earth,our best friend,

faces total obliteration 

after decades of our willful alienation

from you, Earth, our best friend.

The war we watch on our screens

began inside us sight unseen.

We were not looking within

when we should have been.

Silent no longer,  but is the song we now sing

our death song, after staying silent too long?

Dear Earth, can we make amends

and make you, once again

our best friend?

I pray you say “yes”.

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Pandemic

How does one get lost

Behind isolation doors

Left alone with words?

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For Today

Could I please write poems?

Something trite and meant to cheer?

War is simply a horror.

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STUFFED ANIMALS AND LIBERTY

“Suffer the little children”

an ageless lament

“to come unto me”

for comfort well meant

bringing peace and security

with stuffed animals

handed from large to tiny hands

bringing gentle smiles to both

and tiny glimmers of hope.

Here, safety can be found.

What comfort can be shared

with children aged beyond

the comfort of stuffed toys,

holding the hand of younger ones ?

Older children know too much,

suffer more, fleeing mile after mile.

They act stronger.

They hold it together longer.

Who will comfort them ?

With what ? Where ? When ?

Suffer all the children.

Send the tempest-tossed to me.

I shall guard their liberty to grieve,

lest they forget how to dream.

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READ THE DAMN BOOK:before it is banned for bad language

How does one write poetry

while bombs cluster fuck humanity 

and babies are born in bomb shelters?

Ukraine is the latest round of neglect

of children too long the object

of adult selfish-need to be free

of responsibility for anyone but “me”.

Each night children bed down

on cold ground, homeless, hungry, alone.

Or, if lucky, four to a bed before eviction

kicks them and their mom to the street.

Each day children dodge bullets

not only to and from school,

but behind doors barricaded by desks.

Suicide soars among the young.

They watch fire devour tree and flower

as rivers run dry or expire in mud

left behind by a flood.

They watch oceans mired in plastic mulch

rise to drown coastlines and streets

where sewers overflow to taint

the water they drink from lead pipes.

Those are the lucky ones 

who need not walk water miles 

in jugs held aloft on tired feet

with tired minds and tired smiles.

Plastic lurks in cattle feed and breast milk.

We feed our children plastic.

Is this the world we dream of leaving our children?

Is this what allows us to press our tangled hands in our laps

as tanks and cluster bombs mow our children down ?

Ukraine is another chapter in the book we refuse to read,

lest we take some responsibility.

This is the only poem I have today

as I watch children await 

the school bus driving them to their fate

written in the book of life.

Read the damn book!

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LOVE LETTER TO UKRAINE

Love with every fiber of your being.

Love gives life and death meaning.

Love keeps vision clear.

Love is stronger than fear.

Love embraces positivity.

Love destroys negativity.

Love crosses every border.

Love creates world order.

Love brings unity.

Love creates community.

I believe in love, that is true.

I believe in you.

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DAYS OF INFAMY

No more war, no more, no more.

This is what the world hopes for.

But bullies of war always go farther,

always want more.

My dad was at sea

off the shores of Waikiki

on a December Sunday morn

when bullies of war against China

went farther wanting more.

While Japanese diplomats wrangled in DC

for changes to US policy 

which barred trade with nations at war, 

Japanese planes far from home

dropped bombs on US shores.

Destroying the Navy which had escorted

Lend Lease weapons of war sent

across the Atlantic on ships 

guarded by sailors including my Dad,

dodging German U-boats and destroyers

was their goal, delivering aid to Europe

with weapons of war.
Bullies always go farther,

always want more.

Japan attacked China in 1931. 

using a false flag attack

on Japanese soldiers to justify war.

Japan pushed farther into China,

and Raped Nanking.

Burma and S.E. Asia were near.

And bullies always go farther,

always want more.

British soldiers and theUS Navy 

stood in the way.

Much was destroyed at Pearl Harbor.

But ships at sea like my Dad’s 

were out of the harbor that day.

The Day of Infamy was December 7. 

Dad was on his way to the Pacific on December 8.

From island group to island group,

To the Philippines and beyond,

The war went father and longer

until stopped by a nuclear bomb.

Dad came home. Too many did not.

As Ukrainians now shelter below,

like the Brits and Chinese long ago

And nations hesitate, negotiate 

and Russia threatens nuclear war

we Lend Aid as before, 

dreading once more

a new Day of Infamy.

Bullies always go farther,

always want more.

Has history taught us

nothing at all?

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MAMA, I AM AFRAID

It started with the words, “…Mama, I am afraid.

Words any soldier facing an enemy would say.

The phrase that cause my tears to bank

before overflowing down my face were these,

“They throw their bodies under the wheels,” 

under armored vehicles and tanks

meant to protect or attack,

depending upon one’s side.

“They told us we would be welcomed.” 

With open arms, “They hate us.” 

Was he dismayed  before he died; 

before those tanks and vehicles 

carried death to those unarmed?

Soldiers die, their innocence intact;

their innocence dead, if they survive.

And all I can do from afar

is cry, and cry, and cry.

For soldiers on both sides

of Putin’s lies.

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ANGELS OF DEMOCRACY

The foreign life of angels

is to earth brought down

to fight the good fight

for freedom to abound.

Zelensky leads his people.

The whole earth gathers round,

defended by angels

on Ukraine’s sacred ground.

Putin’s fallen countrymen

attack with cunning and deceit

to undermine democracy

and its mission creep.

Tyrants fear their citizenry

exposed to the fruits 

of democracy.

Putin fears the loss of power

as Ukrainians move west,

and Ukrainians fight valiantly,

stand and give their best.

Zelensky needs more than angels

to keep the Ukrainian people free.

One thing is certain

even if cities fall and people flee.

No people is more free

than those who stand and fight

for freedom and democracy.

Such people live among angels

no matter where they be.

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EVIL ADDS UP

Not all of us are good at sums.

Math seems an unknown language

But, Here’s a rule of thumb

we all can glean,

“Evil adds up”

ignored if not unseen

by passersby who briefly notice

the drunk huddled with his rum

in the doorway, 

below the underpass

as they scurry by.

Integers of one

are not the same one as I,

we tell ourselves.

That one is different

than the one who is I.

Integers add up 

in natural disasters.

Tornados, hurricanes

fires and floods

multiply the integers

until the numbers draw the light

of media to their plight,

for awhile.

The numbers are reduced

by such attention.

When media lights go off

we passersby forget the

need to finish the subtraction.

Not a single drunk,

but entire blocks of numbers

are left in evil’s hold,

seeking shelter and warm beds,

a drink of water, a loaf of bread.

Crime lords and government

corruption and economic destruction

multiply exponentially the evil done

to entire communities

forced to flee to safety as refugees.

Evil adds up until its mass

is beyond measure

as we passersby seek our pleasure.

A father and daughter on a park bench

in Merry Old England after touching 

the handle as they closed their door,

poisoned by secret police abroad,

sent from Putin and his minions

whose minions are legion,

fallen angels from The Cold War,

who explore every nation

with a single message,

“You cannot hide from evil.”

There is no place to run

as evil has been left to grow,

to multiply beyond every border

of the New World Order.

The people of Ukraine know this well,

after years of dividing  their nation 

from the hell they struggle to quell.

They are not mere passersby

to the evil driving tanks in their streets,

sending missiles into buildings

where children dwell.

Each piece of war equipment tallied

and accounted for. 

Numbers measured on both sides

of the equation of war.

The only story that adds up

is that evil has multiplied 

to drive the suffering

to basements and train stations below

the streets of an entire nation.

Ukrainians do not clutch a bottle of rum.

They clutch one another,

measuring the possibility

of survival upon evil’s arrival

on their own doorsteps.

They seek a drink, a loaf of bread,

the warming comfort of sleep 

in their own bed.

Lesson learned that evil adds up.

Passersby add to that equation.

Passersby who drop coins in a cup

and tell themselves they do good.

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