Tag Archives: diversity

OCEANS

I could become an ocean

If I unleashed the rivers of tears

Building behind eyes seeing,

Building behind ears hearing,

Building behind a mind

Buried in grief over what I find

Hidden within family and friends,

I thought were of a kind;

Who saw hate and felt repulsion,

Who heard lies and became disgusted,

Who watched inhumanity and scowled,

Who with outrage spoke aloud.

Instead, they smirk and smile,

And change the subject acting proud

To shut down discussion and discomfort at discussing hard truths.

Either they are in avoidance of discord;

Or worse, they approve of lies and hate,

And are simply happy to see hate flourish.

They are not the least discouraged.

I could become an ocean.

Instead, I check my emotion.

I seek to find some common ground.

Impossible when they shut all true conversation with me down.

Is this what pushes us apart,

a river of tears breaking canyon

walls of disagreement apart?

I could become an ocean

Washing them away as I allow

My tears to flow.

Until the valley of tears

Washes hate clear

And silts and nourishes the soil

That love may once again grow.

I could become an ocean.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

BALANCE OF POWER

Photo by Yan Krukau on Pexels.com

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

Photo by Kampus Production on Pexels.com

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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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

COLUMBUS,OHIO 4-5-2025

Thousands gathered in pouring rain

that fizzled to drizzle

before again filling drains

in a deluge of tears shed from the sky

for all the cruel MAGA plans in 2025.

Cars in parade drove round and round

filled with those too weak or sick to stand

letting the blare of horns shift feet off the ground

as protesters lifted signs and waved

in true solidarity, camaraderie and pride.

Every viewpoint, every age, every gender

straight or pride, every religion; all differences aside.

Small towns, big cities and rural hamlets,

countries all around the globe 

joined together, lifted signs with epithets

and reminders the people run this country

not oligarchs, nor despots, nor traitors, nor kings.

Enough is enough and this is too much

as it silences the Liberty Bell’s ring.

And, best of all, this is just the beginning.

Soon, MAGA will fall.

Still, local and national news ignores

the true message sent today

to save our beloved USA.

Media moguls saw no need

to shoot themselves in the knee

and tell the story of our glory

as we gathered to redress grievances

and demand our government comply

with federal laws and court orders

lest we watch our nation die. 

We are here, and here we shall remain.

We are our own best hope. We refuse to lie.

Fascists now rule over the home of the brave,

supported by Republican cowards

whose complicity credulity strains.

And the news media offers no discourse

to educate and explain

why millions of Americans stood so  resolute,

so long, in such  drowning rain.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

LITTLE AGITATOR,WHY? BECAUSE!

Louise Annarino, J.D.- The Little Agitator, age 2

Do you recall a nickname from your childhood? Perhaps what your mother called you, how she referred to you? What does it tell you about yourself now? Where do you feel it ? Can you find the love within it? Or, was it something that calls your identity into question ? Can you find humor in it? Or at least make peace with it ?

My Mom had 2 ways she frequently described me, called for me, referred to me. She told me and others I was her “Little Why-Because”. It was frustrating for her to have a daughter who questioned the “why” behind every order, demand or simple request. A daughter who could not accept a simple answer to why night happened.  Who persisted questioning every response, such as earth and sun rotation, with the question, “But, why does the earth rotate? and why around the sun?”. Her final answer was inevitably, “Because.” And, my final question was always, “But, why ‘because’?”.

The second nick-name and descriptor she used to define me to myself and to others was her “Little Agitator.” At first I was clueless at this description, for it seemed to upset her. The only agitator I knew was in the washing machine. It seemed to be  a wonderful thing because it helped make our clothes clean. I was flattered until I understood she did not intend to flatter me. Yet, it still seemed a fine thing to be. It challenged the dirt of lies and unkindness.It challenged the bullies in our neighborhood. It kept my brothers in their place. It seemed boys and men constantly picked apart girls and women. Agitating them seemed a fine way to clean up that mess. I became a stronger agitator with every effort to set thinks right.

So, despite fearing being an agitator in attempting to clean up the life and lives around me, I embraced the role. Despite exasperating family, friends, school teachers, professors, priests ( I was thrown out of religion class twice) and nuns by asking “why”, I relished the discussion and discovery in challenging the status quo. 

Being both a “why-because” and an “agitator” was a helpful combination. I was not a “know-it-all’; but, a “I know nothing so explain it, and you, to me.” Once I understood the place of conflict or hurt, I could agitate to make it better. Agitation alone is not enough to set things right. First we must take the time and ask enough questions to truly understand the need for change, and how to fix things without causing more pain.

American leaders in all walks of life are so focused on making money and attaining power they have not taken the time to ask questions and get to the final “because.” Why do we need a Dept. of Education? What does it do? Why do we need Social Security, SSI, Medicare and Medicaid? What do they do? Why do we need Affirmative Action, diversity and inclusion programs? What do they do? What messes have we Americans made? How do we clean them up? Why do we need courts, laws and regulations? What do they do?

You see my point. What is happening to our country now is an abomination. Elected leaders in the former Republican Party (now a dictatorship in the making) have never taken the time or made the effort to truly see the American people because they have not cared enough to do so, not cared enough to ask, “Why?” Their only concern is how can they reduce cost so we can give tax breaks to the wealthiest Americans we hope emulate. We look for scape-goats to explain why the “big boys” do not share with us, while we watch the crumbs from their table blow in the wind. Cost-cutting is a ruse because the Republican Administrations have repeatedly increased the national debt, while Democratic Administrations have repeatedly reduced the national debt. The tax cuts now headed our way will only increase the debt. The firing of government employees and dismantling of the watch-dog programs will only increase corruption and the national debt, as money disappears into the pockets of private contractors planning to take over education, the military, law enforcement, the postal service, health care and social services. Privatization introduces profit motive which increases costs, and provides greater investment returns for the wealthy who are being excused from tax burdens. Our middle class has been under a destruction plan since the 1980s. It is now coming to fruition. There cannot be a democracy without a strong middle class.

We need more agitators, asking more questions.

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Filed under FAMILY STORIES, POLITICS

D.E.I. and I

Photo by Nicholas Swatz on Pexels.com

I have stayed away from words, 

breathless, in my grief,

for too long.

Diversity is my faith.

Equity is my hope.

Inclusion is my love.

Each breath I take is a promise

that things will be better someday.

And, they have been for a time,

in places expanding across space,

across multiple divides.

In a school, then university.

In a church, then a community.

Across a state, on national forums

Each breath inhaled the hate,

expanded and expelled love in its place.

Breaths took down barriers, created programs,

enacted policies, changed syllabi,

created courses and news ways of seeing,

new avenues of progress, new ways of being.

The backlash always came,

in drips and drabs, all the same.

But this! This! It is a fearsome game.

It is not D.E.I. which they decry.

They want to see us hold our breath

and die.

They SNAP food from the mouths of babes.

They ask the aged and disabled to work their own miracles,

heal themselves without medic-aid,

waste away, and die.

They place tariffs on those who stood at our side.

Making us all pay more for less to save their pride.

They fill their pockets with our labor,

changing coins to crypto for their greedy favor.

They extort heroes who fight to protect freedom world-wide

so that dictators and killers can be by their side.

They miss the days when the few controlled the many.

They refuse to compete, or share even one penny;

pennies earned from our labor, not theirs.

Lately, it seems we have not got a prayer.

We seldom did. But, do not despair.

What we did have was the freedom to try.

Now, our hard-won freedom to speak and act is denied.

We are being denied the right to even try.

We still have one another, and our God-given rights.

We will never allow those to be shoved aside.

And at the end of this life we shall hold hands and sigh

We tried. 

We tried.

We tried!

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

GROWING THE AMERICAN GARDEN

Photo by Kampus Production on Pexels.com

The soil sits compact and firm,

steady and not easily moved 

in its congress with the rotation of the earth.

Nobel in its steadfastness

yet, it is unable to grow a single bloom.

A spade dug deep in its history invades

this too taut and fearfully dark space,

to expose the weeds to light with untidy grace,

disturbing the twisted roots below.

Then, those of us with seed to sow

can bend our bodies to the task

and make a garden grow.

The more diverse the seed, I say,

the happier the birds, butterflies and bees

all agog at the variety of shapes and colors

able to arise from earth disturbed and settled

around a multitude of possibilities

stodgy soil could never anticipate.

Tight-fisted earth formed under sun and shade

is made to shift and flow with uncertainty,

a new and better garden to create.

The season of change is upon us.

We must plant before it is too late.

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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

IN THE GARDEN WITH FRIENDS

It is not just the poppy that addicts.

All flowers do to those 

who make gardens grow.

Over rocky , stubbled fields

replacing weeds with scented folds

of roses petaled

in circled fashion we all know.

Flowers call our names

even when we know not theirs,

from rows and rows and rows

of nurseried plants shouting aloud

“Take me home. Take me home!”

So many languages flowers speak.

Gardeners yearn to learn them all,

each one part of a diverse melody

which sings a siren’s song.

The garden is a symphony

of chords and rhythms strong

enough to carry feet along 

new paths from dawn to dusk

to worlds unknown beyond.

Strong enough to lift up all 

who wander through the varied colors,

kissed by bees and butterflies

taking us along on a joyous ride

to the one place for which we long.

A place of unity and uncommon beauty

freed from wilderness, our wildness tamed;

and fear buried beneath the soil

where it belongs.

Like flowers, in gardens we reach for the sun

and welcome the rain to quench our thirst

for freedom, friendship and mirth.

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Filed under POETRY

Reflection on the Lonely Artist


The lonely artist is not a fiction but a prediction


of the lonely lover


awaiting to discover


who we are.


I do not know you, do I ?

How could I when I do not yet know myself?


I see you. I hear you.


You are there.


In your eyes I see myself


as a reflection,

with it inherent loss of my full energy


and being, lost in your gaze.

This leaves me lost and dazed.


All you give me is a reflection of myself.

It is not enough.


It lacks your energy. Your being

you keep for yourself,


leaving me alone, grasping air.


Perhaps this is why we choose


to love only those who appear


most like our selves.


Disenchanted when all we are


able to embrace

is the reflected self.


Give me your true self.


Give me your art


not something set apart,

but different from me.


This is the value of diversity.


This love beyond self


only comes when we see

more than our own reflection,


are given new energy,


the energy of you.


Fear keeps us apart.


We fear knowing who we are.


We fear knowing who you are.

Fearing if we love you,


we will only see

our lessened selves.

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Filed under POETRY