Tag Archives: activism

MY FELLOW AMERICANS

MY FELLOW AMERICANS

I hold my tongue.

It takes strength I do not have.

Whimpers escape

On shattered breaths,

In silent screams.

The fight worries my soul,

Battle weary and choking,

On words held tight inside.

Once the scream begins

I doubt I could stop.

I wait for your speech.

I yearn for your promise

To stop the authoritarian

Who has taken over our house,

Emptied its vaults,

Stolen its wealth,

Sold its power

To the highest bidders.

So, I write. That I can do

While I wait for you.

To me, this nothing new.

Do you believe me now?

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

DECONSTRUCTION

Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025

The streets were lined for blocks on end.

Signs reminded all who rejoiced to attend

Why they walked and talked and smiled and waved

At passing cars who braved delays

While drivers honked horns and shouted out

“Vote him out and make it a rout!”

Costumed critters danced to our delight

Knowing their freedom would give him a fright.

Deconstruct the lies we have been told.

Deconstruct the narrative being sold.

Deconstruct the bullie’s hold.

Deconstruct institutional mold.

Gather in peace the young and the old.

Stronger are you, more wise, more bold.

Deconstruct so we can rebuild

What he has destroyed with his minions’ lack of skill.

We know how to do this, and more.

We have done it many times before.

Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025

My thanks to my friends in Clintonville area of Columbus who helped me attend this moment of patriots’ challenge to the con men robbing the USA of its power, wealth, ideals and humanity. The lack of media coverage was appalling. The misrepresentation of attendance numbers cannot be challenged when media fails to provide images of the gatherings. A local station covered it AFTER it was over and crowds had dispersed. Another stated hundreds attended when it was actually thousands. We are here. We are resisting. We are going nowhere until the despotism and kidnapping of people and the Supreme Court, universities, news organizations, social media outlets, medical and public health Institutions… even our very language and the meaning of words and phrases has been brought to an end and freedom restored.

We shall not be silenced.

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Filed under COMMENTARY, POETRY, POLITICS

THE LAST DANCE

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

When does thought supersede Being?

When the heart’s speed deviates

from Rhythm’s universal beat

which sets the pace of Space

with certain duration and periodic stress.

We think we know best

and reset Rhythm  and increase stress.

Too soon upset Rhythm brings cessation

instead of renewable creation.

Wind warns us in no uncertain terms

as she increases the beat of her storms.

With greater force Wind pounds her beat

against every shore, her reverberation so strong

Wind pulls Ocean up and along

where Wind’s new beat covers the skies

with Oceans cries, drowning our own.

The rhythm of Being streams in downloaded scenes

of mountains buckling under Tempo’s fall

while Desert spreads where Tree once danced

in the stately rhythm of ages past.

Discordant sound is now all around.

Too many simply turn up the sound.

After the last dance who will there still Be

to turn the lights back on so we can see?

When does thought supersede greed?

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Filed under POETRY

HAIKU

Photo by Lara Jameson on Pexels.com

Patient activist

is an oxymoron twist

delaying all change.

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Filed under POETRY

WOKE WITH A POKE

Louise,Angela,Angelo,Angelo,Jr.

By the age of two

chocolate was my favorite hue.

One day, I was firmly woke

by my mother’s forceful poke.

We were shopping 

in the lower level of the Five and Ten

when I saw the most lovely woman,

elegantly sleek with a stately mien.

I pulled my thumb out of my mouth

and stood in silent awe

at the first person of color I ever saw.

As soon as I spoke I felt the poke

and knew what I had said was wrong.

What had I said that made Mom move

to wake me up, and make me see

some new truth among the many

she tried to teach me?

I said with joy, so gleefully,

“Mommy, look at the chocolate lady!”

Mom’s horrified look 

was accompanied by the poke.

“Shush,” Mom said, “we do not comment

on how others look.”

The lady grinned, 

then opened her smile to take us in.

She said to my Mother, “Your little girl is fine.

I assume she loves chocolate as much as I.”

The two women laughed and shared a smile

that brought out their beauty, in eyes that shined

with love and joy in the innocence

of a child who thought chocolate ladies

are oh, so deliciously fine.

I asked the lady, “Why are you a different color?”

Then, Mom said, “God made people of many hues,

sizes, and shapes to make the world more fun for you.

We would all be so bored if we were the same.

Like the bigger box of crayons of sixty-four hues

you keep asking me to buy for you, 

God made each one of us different

so we could enjoy life so much more.”

Then the two ladies said, “So very nice to meet you.”

That day I came home with a box of sixty-four

crayons and wisdom, and so much more.

I was woke with a poke 

and found a new and bigger world to explore.

At seventy-three it still holds true

that I love chocolate, and diversity, too;

in the paints near the easel, the neighbors nearby,

the books on the shelf, and the places I fly.

The world awakens with pokes to keep us awoke

so life’s many wondrous possibilities do not pass us by.

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Filed under POETRY

BABY BOOMERS, BOOM!

Don’t forsake the power of Baby Boomers.

Many of us are Late Bloomers.

A few of us marched and demonstrated

for Civil Rights, and anti-war.

Post-war babies, we may be 

the fiercest fighters for Democracy.

And yet, too many of us are immature

in understanding the force 

needed to correct a nation’s course.

This is not the time to play and pretend,

a babes are wont to do,

that Democray can never end.

No, being a baby will not do. 

We need to bellow and we need to boom.

Our strength is waning it is true.
We can no longer do what we could before.

The strength in arms and legs wanes.

The strength in minds and hearts remains.

And, our voices raised together are strong

enough sing freedom’s song.

Baby Boomers, sing out loud, sing out strong.

Our fathers soldiered on across the seas.

We must soldier on at home to defend Democracy.

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Filed under POETRY

HOPE STREET

Where does hope begin or end?

Hope is not a one-way street, I know.

Hope folds back upon itself and those

who travel its streets come and go.

Hope gets caught up in the dark fold

and holds its breath until the street unfolds

where freedom lights and warms the soul

and breath can find its rhythm again.

Wins and losses racing down these streets

means little on this stretch where war has taken hold.

the streets of Harkiv, Cherniv, Chernobyl,

Kyiv, Lviv, and Mariupol and the many towns

and villages along the way show us hope 

passed this way on its way to war and back again.

Bodies lying twisted on Ukrainian streets

executed and abandoned show hope passed through

on its way to our own streets, to our own end.

Hope folds back again and again and again

until our streets meet Ukrainian streets,

util our humanity meets in the streets everywhere,

until we discover all streets meet end-to-end.

Our hopes fold and unfold together on the road

to war and peace, to evil or good, to hatred or love.

Where does hope begin or end?

With each of us.

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Filed under POETRY