Tag Archives: Democratic Party

KILL THEM ALL?

Fraud plot in which some Somali immigrants participated? All Somalis are garbage so get rid of them all.

Criminal activity in which some African-Americans engage? All African-Americans are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Investigations and questions by journalists you find troublesome? All journalists are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Some women refuse your advances and sexism? All women are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Venezuelan boaters survive an illegal attack at sea? All Venezuelans are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Democrats pass legislation restricting corporate greed? All Democrats are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Military heroes remind military personnel to refuse unlawful orders? All military and veterans are garbage. Get rid of them all.

CEOs defraud, overcharge for goods and services, underpay workers? All CEOs are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Some White people commit crimes? All white people are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Some men abuse and rape women? All men are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Some bankers hide criminal gains, make money off the deposits? All bankers are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Hate has no logic except its power to destroy.

Hate has no reason except its delight in abuse.

Hate has no goodness in thought or in deed.

Hate is a damning influence and creed.

Hate is the one thing no one needs.

Some people hate? All people are garbage. Get rid of them all.

Hate until no one is left alive, no one at all.

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BALANCE OF POWER

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Nature restores balance

upset by human hands

on air and sea and land.

Government becomes unbalanced

when leaders fail to understand

no government can serve us

when controlled by a single man.

No single party can control

a seamless governance of the whole.

Power unbalanced is doomed to fail.

History and Nature tell the tale.

Diversity is the golden rule of life,

counteracting hidden strife

as it strives to interact and share

what keeps the planet alive and fair,

what makes us glad to be alive.

Cooperation is not just wise.

It is the seed of all that grows.

It is the only means Nature knows

to grow the wheat and the rose,

to water the farmland and dry the bog,

to cool summer heat and fire winter’s log,

to spread seeds on the breeze of dawn

and weight the wind blowing too strong.

We have run away from Nature far too long.

We have forgotten to listen to Nature’s song.


We have been singing a discordant tune

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to instruments so loud, the song is ruined.

But Nature always restores balance.

It is the base note of Nature’s parlance.

Take off your shoes and walk in the grass.

Feel the freedom you feared lost in the past.

Turn your face into the wind and hold tight.

Feel the freedom you feared lost beyond your sight.

Wade in puddles catching raindrops on your tongue.

Feel the freedom you feared lost and with hands wrung.

We fear we have no way to save our nation.

But Nature gives us a new generation

every spring and through every season

Nature restores our world and our reason.

Balance of Power is the song of the hour.

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FEELING THE WORDS

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WRITING SEEMS 

A FEEBLE ATTEMPT

TO COUNTER FEELINGS 

WITH THOUGHTS,

I FEAR.

BUT, THAT IS THE POINT

WHERE WE

ARE MEANT TO MEET.

NOT IN RATIONAL THOUGHT

WITH FACTS, NOT FICTION;

BUT, IN MUTUAL FEAR

WHERE CONTROL UNWINDS

AND THERE CAN BE

NO MEETING OF MUTIAL MINDS.

THUS, FEELINGS MATTER MORE

THESE DAYS, THAN EVER BEFORE.

FEAR AND LOATHING ARE COMPANIONS

TOO OFTEN USED TO DIVIDE

THOSE CAPABLE OF LOVE.

WORSE, WHEN DESIGNED AND LED

FROM THOSE ABOVE.

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THE GAME IS OVER

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It is hard to stop this rush toward self-destruction

by a nation so far ahead in the race

no one else could compete and play.

There is no reason to mourn the last mile run

in a race no longer any fun

for any but a very few, 

and fewer still each day in play.

We all know American’s greatest sin

is loving nothing better than a game they can win.

When winning is no longer fun 

we look for someone to blame, and make them pay

for reminding us the game is over

and a new game must be put in play.

And, so, we blamed Joe,

who simply, in so many ways, happened to be

the last leader to toss away the final play.

No one has been a winner since,

nor could be since that final day.

A new game cannot be worth our while

if the top few are the only winners.

The old game with so many losers may be over.

But, we Americans are not over the need to play

a game we all can win,

a game we call Election Day.

Let the new game begin!

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SMALL SPACES SMALL MINDS

AI GENERATED image of Elon Musk, Tim Cook, Mark Zuckerberg

The smaller the space in the head

or in geography, or in any cartography,

The less room for challenges and new ideas.

Facts have only so much space.

They must cling fast to last.

Those who limit themselves

to live inside bubbles 

seldom recognize such troubles.

They are sure of everything

and wrong about nothing.

They have organized their small space

impeccably, intelligently, flawlessly.

So they must be as well.

They have neither time nor space to dwell

upon possible fallacy.

Only those outside the bubble can see

the absolute dangers of such insanity.

It is a new kind of mental illness

born in the stillness of active minds

revolving unchallenged by facts

that would make their theories unwind.

No such persons should be given power

over those who would see freedom flower

with a just and truthful effort, hour upon hour.

Those who live in openly-wide spaces,

who are woke to every possibility,

to every person and new discovery

are shut down and shut out

until autocracy has destroyed democracy.

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IT IS ALL TRANSACTIONAL

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I lifted the blind, closed against the heavy weight of darkness.

But, the darkness lingers still in a world where the ability to see

has become transactional instead of factual.

It is all about the money, we now see.

Truth is no longer able to set us free.

The heavy weight of lies shackles and chains us

and keeps us in our place, where lack of opportunity

now extends beyond those once enslaved.

Too many blindly bow to the oligarchs who stole a nation’s wealth

and put the blame not on themselves, but on everyone else.

It is the people of color, women and homosexuals;

the immigrant and refugee, asylum seekers, librarians,

historians, veterans, unions and universities…

the truth-tellers the upper 1 percent would hide

to save their greedy selves, and tame their shame

behind a white Christian nationalism’s false pride.

Resentment has been nurtured over decades of time,

hardened into stone and fossilized, with guns loaded and primed.

Do not shoot the messengers who only try to lift the blind

and tell the truth you need to hear, about those who put you in this bind.

The sun shouts in voices of students and grandmothers,

unionists and progressives who only want to remind

the leaders still in place, but powerless as institutions crumble,

that we the people will never give up the freedoms  so hard-won.

We will not allow the tyranny of the greedy few to rule 

over  the nation and world we love, never over me and you.

Have we become what we fear most ? A nation of cowards and bullies?

Are we strong enough to lift the blinds and see the truth, finally?

Are we asleep at the post, we guardians of freedom’s hope?

Has greed brought us all to our knees before those who wield wealth

as a cudgel, a chain saw and a weed whacker 

to root out those who seek equal opportunity to build wealth, and be free?

Are we willing to worship the new gods of control, corruption and greed?

It is always about the money; transactional, not factual; selfish, not loving.

Has our beloved community and country been brought to its knees?

Is our ability to love now simply and blindly transactional?

Is no one left to hear our heartfelt, truthful pleas?

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DANCE IN THE RAIN

Photo by Aleksandar Pasaric on Pexels.com

If not too early, perhaps too late

rain falls through parched skies,

in drizzles and drips only;

clouds’ moist linings absorbed

by dried out cells

of the hydrogen and oxygen

we need to survive.

The train’s whistle blows

in drowned out gasps.

Wet skies hold back

the usual click and clack

of dry wheels over steel track.

Iron wheels now slip and slide,

a smoother if more uneven ride.

Wet nights lead to wet mornings

drowning our the train whistle’s warning

of all that is to arrive

during this election drive.

Tom-toms beat quieter drums

to speed up hearts 

and slow down minds

as the train approaches

the nations’s destination.

AI interrupts nature’s offer

to set things straight

without a factual bother,

as facts fall beneath

the slippery wheels,

and we are easily thrown off-track

unsure now what is fiction or fact.

We will all soon be mad as hatters.

Too soon, we wonder if anything matters.

After drought, roots unfold  soundlessly

and it is hard to hear the truth’s refrain.

Our senses our dulled by falling rain.

Our restless sleep disrupts our days.

We are lulled by quieter chants,

but nothing has changed.

Courage now, lads and lasses.

The polls await the arriving train.

We must vote, in sunshine or rain.

Open sad and tired eyes.

Listen with too-numbed ears.

The sounds may be different,

but not the refrain.

Time to vote the danger away.

Time to learn to dance in the rain.

Vote!

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DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION

Photo by Thiago Silva on Pexels.com

Best to keep parched lips closed in the midst of drought.

When the rain comes, as it surely must, lips open wide,

with head tilted back, in a tumultuous shout.

Filling up with rain, one wet swallow can seem enough.

Memory quickly returns of a mouth full of dry dust,

reminding one a single swallow is not enough.

After thirsting so long words have grown tough

to swallow, feel bitter, feel wounded, feel flushed

where they would be drowned 

if only rain would fall down.

Still, the short rain is enough to stir us to our feet,

on the forward march to greener pastures,

cool beneath our bare feet,

taking their fill of all the rains 

that have gone before to make this place

one where one may stay to laugh and play.

We will not go back.

Tears of joy rain down now.

We swallow them whole, 

filled with power so bold

we believe we control

the weather.

We don’t, we know.

But, we can vote.

And our vote grows in volume

as word drops form streams

and create new rivers of dreams

that flow within oceans so strong

their freedom carries us along

to new and better shores 

where right overcomes wrongs.

Words fall like rain, again and again.

Dance in the rain and play

on the way to election day.

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GIVE US AIR !


Vice-President Kamala Harris and Minnesota Governor Tim Walz

August flopped heavily

Sweatily

Vociferously

and fully aware of the pressure

building in the heated

air.

Little relief in scattered 

rains that shattered

a populace already battered

by heated rhetoric

over the curtained waves of

air.

Two-thousand twenty-five

reasons to despair

the planned assault on our care

of one another and a planet

dumb-soaked without a care for

air. 

August is hard to breathe in,

in and out, and in again;

cheering on Harris-Walz

awaiting the slightest breeze of

air.

I can breathe again.

We can breathe again.

The earth can breathe again.

Finally, we can move forward again.

In November we can vote in cooled

air.

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Campaign Music

No single note is discordant.

No single vote voiced is wrong.

How the songwriter

puts the notes together

determines the song.

Our brains fine-tune our ears

to listen for the meaning

of words carried on the notes.

Some songs lift our spirits

to reach a higher cause.

Some songs depress our spirits

and make our hearts pause

with the fear of the other

we hated all along.

Some songs get us on our feet

to dance together, smile and sing.

Some songs hold us in our seats

ready to shout out in defeat.

The songs which truly make us strong

Are those we can rely upon

to offer hope, and love, and peace.

How the notes are brought together means everything.

The music that is America

is hard to sing if notes

are not treasured,

So many notes over so many years

from so many places refugees fled in fear

of famine, crime and even war.

We have sung the song of safety and of freedom,

welcoming all to our shore.

Songs that open minds and hearts

are the best place to start

a journey to a better future;

unlike the songs meant to keep us apart.

So many discordant notes

strung together create chaos,

not a strong and lovely song.

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