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Thursday, October 13, 2016

I cannot mind the nightly news.
The faces are terrible.
Empty promises.
Vague expressions.
Controversy to keep us of guard,
to create division,
to render us harmless.

I wonder where I will be
when the bombs drop.
I wonder at their terrible sound.
Will we feel the tension of the impact
against our bones?

Their smug expressions
outline the lies.

The end is so close
you can almost taste it on the wind.

But the party has yet to begin.
The banners have yet to fly.
The acceptance speeches have
yet to assault or ears.
And yet the terror will come.

Where will I be when we finally
blow ourselves all to Hell?

Monday, June 13, 2016

another way around it

we are all afraid of something.
it originates from
a strong sense of individuality.

we are told from an early age
how unique we are,
and how we should be careful
of being led down
the wrong path by someone else
with another agenda.

stay away from outside religions
while being careful not to
question your own sense
of spirituality.

conform while retaining
your individuality.

you are special.

there is no one else quite
like you, little snowflake.

but make sure that you
find a group which best suits your
core beliefs.

women should be this way.

men should be this other way.

do not divert from the path
elected for you.

stand firmly in one opinion
or another.

but what we are not told about is insanity.
we are not informed about
the harsh reality that if we
keep our mind too tight,
it may snap.

if we believe that the world
is one way, but clearly see that it does
not conform to our set patterns, we have
a tendency to lash out at that
which is different from ourselves.

with enough push and pull, with enough
second guessing, with enough human contact,
and reading, and experience, and travel,
we find that
we are not all that different
than those we are taught to hate.
we begin to see that all those other faces
resemble our own.
we start to see that there are a hell of a lot
of people out there just as lost and confused
as we are.

but if we continue along the paths
set out for us by those that claim
to have our best interests in mind,
there is a tendency to become rigid
and angry,
even hateful from the fear
ignorance provides.

there are about a million other
people just like you, give or take
a few million, either way.

i'm not unique.
you're not unique.
those who you admire
are not unique either.

what makes you special in
one moment
makes you just like someone
in another moment.

it is in our realization
of solidarity
that humanity becomes
a little less frightening,
a little less harsh,
a little less rigid.

so when the hate fills you,
and you see everything
as if it exists
outside of yourself,
you may, in fact,
just be experiencing
a type of sickness
that was ingrained
in you as a form
of individuality...
and it is easy to remedy
when you realize
that everybody
breathes the same
in the same way
that you breathe air.
everybody hurts from
time to time.
everyone feels,
and everyone kneels
under the same sun
that shines down on you.
but the truth is
that there is no truth
other than the truth
that you
choose to believe.

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Make it now

Money is the new Jesus.
It commands our
every waking moment.
Life can be measured by
assets and income.
The light at the end
of the tunnel
is only as good as the next
the next trade,
the next technological innovation.
In all honesty,
who uses what bathroom
is just an experimental
social jerk off session.
We need to be diverted,
and told what to believe,
as long as those beliefs
fall within the categories
we are told to fit within.
Fuck the homeless that line the bridges
in Los Angeles.
To hell with the turmoil
in Detroit.
Screw the disenfranchised
of New Orleans.
In fact, damn the whole of
as long as that all mighty dollar
continues to flow into privileged hands!
Throw away the old,
and in with new...
as long as the new is owned by old money.
The truth is
we aren't ready for a better society.
We can't even hold on to that
which makes us human.
But just because something
hasn't been done
doesn't mean it can't be done.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

of the trials we endure

darkness does not explain it.
maybe darkness in shadow,
some type of void
that is hazy, surreal,
ripped at the edges.

the limbs refuse to work,
the soul feels heavy.
nothing is the way it
used to be, and it never will be

emptiness says it well,
but it does not come close
to the full picture
because emptiness
does not sound so
there is something else
a sludge,
a heavy black ink
that has a special way of dulling
the senses. it makes
sunsets shitty
and flowers droop.

distraction sometimes works,
but not always.
the harsh realization comes
in eventually,
and it only brings back the tears.
the small routines
you normally would not notice
suddenly become the hallmark
of pain.

then there is resentment,
anger, and grief to
occupy the suffering,
but it will only make you feel
in the end.

some small something
interrupts the day
and you start the process
all over again.

a certain smell will catch your
attention. a song
will project out of nowhere.
a strand of light
will grace an article
of clothing. there is
always something.

and in a few years
the pain will numb,
blanketed by time
and it will make you feel
guilty again
for not remembering more
... that is if the madness
misses you
and you can somehow
keep yourself
from dwelling
in the past.

but one day
you will look back and
be grateful for the time
you had before they left.
you will love them more
than you ever thought you could.
maybe you will even talk to
them in the quiet hours
of the day
when no one else
is around,
and it will bring you
some comfort.

you will grow into the pain
where it will not feel
so insufferable.
it is never kind,
but it will not seem
so dire.

many years from now
you will look back
and remember
what you endured.
you will see someone
in as much pain as you were
and you will try to lend
a hand.
you will understand
that it is nothing more than
words, but you hope
it helps.
you hope
to somehow eases
the sadness.

you will gaze into their eyes
and show them
what the reflection
of the future
may be:
a little stronger,
a little lighter,
and with a powerful
set of shoulders
for them
to rest their head.

a tiny flower for a tiny hand

life is so very fragile
                so fleeting
the moments brush through
      and then

a breath ...
         a blink of an eye ...
               and silence

but an echo remains
                for those
       you leave behind

the twinkling
            of a star

the ripple
         of a wave

the movement
           of a clock
      as time slips away

and the tears they hold
   are like a single drop of dew
      at the tip of a leaf,
         threatening to fall

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Where we go from here

it breaks my heart
to think of
someone losing
a child.
the emptiness
left behind.
the dark nights.
the memories
of a smile that
will never touch
those lips again.
it's heartbreaking.
we can talk about
being strong,
about moving on,
but that isn't enough.
you see, there is a scar
on the heart that is carried
through and it never
really heals.
every time you laugh,
every time you dance,
every time you gaze up
at the big, bright stars,
there is always a tear
hidden secretly away.

I don't generally ask for my readers help. But there's a special person that I have come to admire over the years. She has always been diplomatic, always real, always straight forward. Her daughter passed away yesterday. She was only twelve. If you can give a little something, i know her family would greatly appreciate it. I would never ask anything out of my readers unless I fully supported it. So if you can, any little bit helps ...

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Sleep the Night Away

We're on an adventure.
At some point in
that adventure
we're going to experience
serious pain.
It will rattle the bones.
It will make you think
differently about everything
you thought you knew.
Such terrible pain
only happens a few times
in the span of a life,
but it can never be forgotten.
You will carry it like a wrecking ball.
And it will try its hardest to hold you back,
keep you down.
Often that pain we encounter
in this adventure will threaten to
break you.
You will hold your breath,
grit your teeth,
and the tears will come.
You will wonder why.
You will question the fabric
of your existence.
But you will survive.
You will wear that pain
like a ragged coat.
You will feel guilty if it should
ever slip your mind.
You will become stronger
for having forged through it,
but always it will remain.
When the days close in,
and are coming to an end,
that pain you carried will
give way to the next.
That someone who loves you
will carry on and drag that wrecking ball
until, finally, they can sleep too.