How good is good?
How far does it stretch?
As far as a lie?
Good asks questions,
while evil denies.
Who looks stronger?
The one who seems not to know
and questions everything as it goes?
Or the one who never answers,
never pauses to reflect,
never shows another respect?
How skewed is our thinking?
How screwed are our lives?
Good reaches upward
while evil takes a dive.
How do we climb
from such evil depths?
How good is good?
How far does it stretch?
Filed under Uncategorized
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.
Words create the reality we fear,
or one in which we can rejoice, and hold dear,
and spend our lives, seeing more clear.
Words have power to describe us,
inflame us, excite us,
or kill what is inside us.
Words can kill when taken in
by others’ hearts mired
in grace or sin.
Sister Robertine said:
Be careful what you read,
what you see at the movies, or on T.V.
Garbage in is garbage out.
That is what words are all about.
She knew A. I. before it was accelerated
by techno wizards, not the Divine
who works at a slower pace
to afford human-kind much-needed grace.
Sister Robertine said:
Dress how you want to act,
How you hope to be,
how you want to be seen.
You can create each day,
play the part in your own play.
You will soon become
whom you hope to be.
Dress with self-respect
and respect you will get.
Sister Robertine said:
only “X” or “BIG X”
when our answer was incorrect.
No rewards nor praise
for getting it right.
Working hard to get it right,
to see it through
was the least we could do.
Our reward for seeking knowledge was integrity.
Our reward for dressing well was respect.
Our reward for working hard was strength.
Our reward for seeking hard truths was character.
We could then write our own play,
play our chosen roll, on our own stage.
We could live lives that mattered,
live lives in which lies were shattered.
We could live in the spotlight of grace and power
to change the world for good, hour by hour.
Like all good teachers, Sister Robertine directed the play.
I am grateful for such a teacher every single day.
Filed under POETRY
Sleep catches me unaware
Reading in my chair.
A loud noise as a commercial airs
Awakens me from nightmares.
No, it is the news that intrudes
On waking dreams sharp and crude.
I have been awake more than I knew
Unable to tell what is untrue or true.
And so, I read some more
Of an entire reality to explore.
I try hard to understand and accept
A new reality in a democracy kept
Captive without due process of law
Which exposes all of our flaws.
Racism breathes deep and still
With a long-ignored strong will.
We too easily pretend
it has nothing to do with us, my friend.
Lie once and it becomes then
easier to lie again and again.
And we have lied for centuries now.
Shame beads sweat on every brow.
Cognitive dissonance
Makes us create distance
From truth, facts and connection.
Shamelessness offers protection.
Too many are willing to deny
What is clear to the clear-eyed.
I see no end in sight
And remain sleepless night after night.
Filed under POETRY
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?
Memories
The heart’s memory
Holds truth close for but a moment.
Then moves beyond truth
To a greater reality
To become something more,
Something that can last challenging and comforting,
cherished and caressed
Through boundless eternity.
The stories we tell ourselves
May have little basis in reality.
The heart too easily
Makes fools of us all.
Yet, we become enthralled
As our stories unfold,
Especially with those stories
We have never told.
Held close to the chest,
Such untold stories
Make us look, and feel, our best.
Their power keeps us strong
And able to face all the rest.
Filed under POETRY
I used to believe Truth lived in the shadows.
If only we could shine enough light,
then Truth would be set free
for all to see.
There are those who prefer we stay in the dark,
it is true. They fear the Light will open our eyes.
It is no longer so easy to darken the streets
upon which we set our feet
hoping to reach a place of greater liberty.
Truth speeds around the world
from one shadowed place to the next.
Through media Truth moves at the speed of light.
Truth seekers use facts to light our way
along the path to a new day,
one where Light holds sway.
The darkness can no longer hide Truth in shadow.
Those who live in the dark side of life
create new truths able to live in false Light.
In their constant retelling of lies
Truth simply dies in plain sight.
The battle between the Light and the Dark,
between Truth and Lies
is now exposed in MAGA prose
stealing the limelight with false praise
for oligarchs, autocrats and murderers
whose only goal is to control
the flow of wealth into their own pockets
while those who work to be whole
starve and struggle at their feet.
Those forced to flee and seek amnesty as refugees
would add their story to our own
brightening the Truth we already know.
The telling would not surprise the homeless
who walk our own streets.
The homeless, like Truth, used to hide in shadow.
We try to keep them there so we cannot see
the borders they have crossed.
Truth and Light and Love are all apiece.
Without Love we are blind and refuse to seeTruth.
There is no Light strong enough to overcome
deliberate blindness cushioned by lies.
We allow them in boardrooms, newsrooms,
hearing rooms and even, courtrooms.
“Speak Truth to Power,” isn’t that what we say?
When Power seizes the Light with falsehood
can we not see that False Light
can never be allowed to hold sway?
True Light is always more powerful than false.
Liars know this and ban books, and oppose
all who stand alight within Truth’s glow.
This is the one thing I still know.
Filed under POETRY
Beyond the words is a place
every writer longs to be.
There, where unvarnished truth
resides alongside unlimited expression.
Poets would take you on the journey
beyond the words.
The path is not straight.
The path cannot be seen.
The path can only be felt.
The path takes one beyond
the land of dreams
and thoughts unscreened
to the place nothing seems.
In nothingness all lives.
Every possibility sounds out
silently.
The song cannot be heard.
The song can only be felt.
Until nothing erupts quietly
and words return
surprising me.
Art flows not from the poet.
Art flows through the poet
from that place
beyond the words
where all art resides.
The journey is within.
I no longer wait through the night for sun to rise.
Darkness diverts stray thoughts and lets my mind play.
Flowers have taught me to wave away sunny days
whose glare overcomes the true color of all it covers.
Flowers’ colors are brighter on cloudy days
when sun’s harshest, boldest gaze
is tempered by drifting clouds and shade.
The sun arouses, but not always in positive ways.
Passion and love arouse in darkness, under cover,
preparing us to live together on sun-filled days
which can overheat our passion with a challenging gaze,
and guns drawn out in furious blaze.
Night brings safety after those last shots are fired
into the night to hold it at bay, for those who tire
of being alone, hopeless and afraid; whose souls require
less sun to stimulate their hate and more cool nights
to bed down and draw covers over their endless fright.
I welcome the night which offers respite and insight.
I welcome dreams which bring truth and understanding alight.
If only we could recall our dreams in daylight,
perhaps we could create world where justice and mercy prevails
and all are treated right.
On the the hotter, brighter days ahead I fear we may fail,
holding on to what we cannot truly see in such bright daylight.
In such over-heated light true color is lost to our sight
distorting our view of all that is true.
Shoving microphones and spotlights on our frailty
too often distorts our reality
until we no longer can recall the truths learned on darkest days.
I no longer wish the darkness of night away.
I see all more clearly in the muted light of night
than ever I can see in brightest daylight.
I no longer wait through the night for sun to rise.
Darker days are here to no one’s surprise.
They may bring the only way we can survive.
Filed under POETRY
annarino writes 
DECONSTRUCTION
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.
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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