Tag Archives: chaos

THE PERFECT STORM

Photo by Zeeshaan Shabbir on Pexels.com

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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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

FREE THE STRAWBERRIES

Louise’s strawberry garden fenced to keep out chipmunks, squirrels,racoons,deer,rabbits,skunks and a variety of birds; allowing in rain, helpful pollinators, and insect enemies of other harmful insects. Rest assured the gate will be turned right side up and our American garden will once again flourish and produce sweet fruit. Patience and effort, constant weeding out those harming the garden. It takes time and is well worth the effort.

The fence is placed all around

The strawberries are in the ground.

The gate is upside down.

The harvest will be delayed

Dismantling what we made

hour by our, day by day.

Chaos alway brings change.

Gardens too rigorously defended

make fences necessarily upended

to reach fruit not intended

for anyone but a few

who fence out themselves, too. 

What is the gardener to do?

A gate is meant to let us through

to the crop we worked for,

and many of us died for,

a free country we yearn for.

We thought we planted within our reach.

We thought we had enough freedom to teach.

We never thought we would beseech

tearing down everything we had built

to avoid admitting our guilt.

The gate MAGA made is all atilt.

The fence is too high, clearly.

We are just so frustrated and weary.

We may never eat another strawberry.

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POLITICAL PARTIES

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Notes do not always ascend

in a crescendo of delight

They also bend low 

beyond the heart’s swift beat

until we feel breath stop

fearing heart’s defeat.

Notes ebb and flow

in patterns we do not anticipate.

Yet the music goes on

in beauteous escapade

across unlit rooms,

across shady glens, 

across sunlit fields

and parking lots awash

in un-natural lights aglow

above harsh surfaces of worry

where we park to listen.

Music soothes as often as it pushes

heart rates into overdrive.

We rise on dancing feet

or subside to slumberous ease.

One orchestra makes sense

of the notes unfolding

up and down,

racing and slowing

until the music transcends

the past and brings us up fast

to the climax at the end.

Two orchestras cannot play together

unless they play the same notes

at the same pace to the same place

in time and space.

Each must follow the same rules

and read the same music sheet.

Without such agreement

there is a cacophony of sound.

No matter how well one orchestra 

plays by the rules, its uplifting

music becomes mere sound,

its rhythm unable to be discerned

by the racket from the second

orchestra who has turned

from reading the music sheet

and playing by the rules.

We cannot stand the dissonance

and turn the music off.

We mistakenly believe

both orchestras at fault.

It is time to call a halt

to the orchestra of whining instruments

which refuse to abide by music’s rules

and continue to play us false.

I yearn for the sweet sounds of truth.

November cannot come too soon.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS