
My dreams have taglines; colored lights forming words,
scrolling across the bottom or the top
to awaken a sleeping brain.
Sometimes, bold sentences
within thick-lined boxes to draw attention.
My tired body sometimes fails to notice or understand
the insights my vivid dreams demand.
As I dreamt last night and viewed my last scenes
a box appeared with a message to be gleaned:
TO GO FORWARD IT IS OFTEN BEST TO LOOK TO THE PAST
WHERE YOU HAVE BEEN BEFORE.
And, then, I awoke to my here and unformed now
wondering what part of past
informs a future built to last.
Dreams leave clues like any good mystery.
Dreams fragment history.
Dream introduce me to strangers
who tell their stories, and not my own.
I wake confused yet excited to explore
the fading dream some more.
I turn on lights to brighten the dark morning,
awaiting a breathless sunrise
to seep beneath shades hiding the night,
which might bring surprises to my door.
It is difficult to see a future
when these days are so dark.
Dreams tell me to see clearly
my future relies upon seeing my past.
I search each dark corner
with a flashlight in my hand.
If I can see what brought me here,
where I now wonderingly stand,
I can see a future brighter than indignation,
more solid than fearful imagination.
A future where strangers’ stories become my own,
and I can grow from seeds I have sown
in the dark soil, now,
so well known.









MONEY, MONEY, MONEY
Money counts for nothing.
It has no intrinsic worth,
these tiny bits of metal
dug, then foundered from the earth.
Money adds no value to our lives.
Its value lies outside its cost to self.
Its only value is what it tells us.
Money talks after all.
It tells us what we truly value,
whom we raise up, and whom we let fall.
We bet our future on its use,
or bury it in secure vaults.
We use it to boast about greatness
while it hides our basest faults.
It buys the things around us.
It buys the myth of our safety.
It serves to remind us
we are nothing at all;
but, tiny specks in a universe
among many millions just like us,
trying to rise while gravity pulls us
around and down giant black holes.
Money fools us, a tool that uses us,
while we think we rule over others
just like us.
So, we gather it as best we can
to show we are better than
our fellow woman or man.
We cannot rely upon our own souls
to bring wisdom, love and life,
to end the useless strife.
We buy bullets instead of bread.
We drop bombs instead of supplies.
We destroy earth instead of fear.
We believe our own and others’ lies.
Money becomes our grand prize.
Leave a comment
Filed under COMMENTARY, POETRY
Tagged as banking, BUYING VOTES, cash, Coins, Congo, consumerism, credit cards, crypto, fear, finance, GAZA, greed, Haiti, immigrants, money, non-profits, refugees, religion, savings accounts, sermon on the Mount, taxation, TRUMP BRIBES, UKRAINE, US Congress, wall street, war zones, wealth