We have the disease of dissatisfaction. We have the ailment of voicing our woes.
We felt the pain of emphatic action. We have the soreness of being shook so.
We wear tears of One ripped in Factions. Some are hemorrhaging away as we go.
We slouch ahead the worse for wear. To a person; zombie-like focus with egos.
We foresaw the dream of Living Fair. We walked in protest we all said “No”.
We cast our votes. We did our share. Getting what we deserve brought us all low.
We have the disease of dissatisfaction. We have the ailment of facing our woes.
I carry with me only the highs & lows; the middle evaporates from me.
I bear the confidence & wisdom of my spiked historical armory.
I have trouble remembering the truly mundane but triumph & tragedy stay
Laughter weaves together this armor & nostalgia cements it all for the fray.
Though the center of life escapes the vaults of my memory, my mind knows it in the Now.
The futures are riveting but experiencing this Now should be taken to be as solemn as a vow.
For I only experience the fullness of life when Living currently & presently.
So I shed the past’s armor & try on the invisible safety of true vulnerability.
And find myself quiet & sanguine as I stare fixedly into space while processing everything.
That’s what memory is for me…the pointy hollowed out armor of my own thorny history.
Not so long ago the world was wide open, though it wasn’t so for me.
Not so long ago people were open, affectionate, though it wasn’t so for me.
Not so long ago quarantine was an abstract, though it wasn’t so for me.
Eight long years the world was closed to me while my heart lay widely bared alone.
Eight long years my door was bereft of shadow, no visitors, knocks & no doorbell tone.
Eight long years I’ve lived this life you’ve tasted, these walls & wards are all I’ve known.
Too long has life been small & quiet…shutdown. But, now it is so for all.
Too long have I langoured abandoned & ailing. But, now it is so for all.
Too long have I been confined by circumstance. Alas, now it is so for all.
There was an atmosphere of division there was an atmosphere of hate.
There was an atmosphere of violence so we walked in protest disregarding fate.
The atmosphere was oppressively thick and kept us hiding in our homes.
The atmosphere which plagues us; we just weren’t prepared for the blows.
The atmosphere of violence made us finally ask “Who do we want to be?”.
The atmosphere of division reflected a virus in our systems that just…wouldn’t…leave.
Then there was an atmosphere of Hope that all would wash clean in the end.
Our political & financial atmospheres must avoid breaking by learning to bend.
Our social contract’s atmosphere is frayed but the golden thread pattern stays true.
Changing these stagnate atmospheres will take a little from me & also from you.
“Faith is just an inordinately litigated form of Hope.”
Sadly, wealth is rarely matched with non-transactional good will & nameless generosity.
Life has left me Old before my time. Nothing more than a collection of memories, thoughts & rhymes.
Love has left me Wilting while I bloom. A lifetime of abdications & abandonments have settled to dusty unused gloom.
Time has left me roughed up & wise. Dealing me blows to toughen me up…to make me rigid against the world’s lies.
Circumstance has left me bereft & bare. My struggle is my own. There’s been no line at my door to give it any care.
Humanity has left me bewildered & lost. Singularly talented artists of love & hate…Gladly disseminating to others the cost.
I sleep with hope around my neck.
I sleep with hope; just a small fleck.
I sleep with hope hung on chain with clasp.
I sleep with hope as it’s always within grasp.
I sleep with hope in a trinket filled with scent as a reminder.
It works & I have never given myself any gift that came close to kinder.
“If you’ve got time to type a conversation… you’ve got time to pick up the phone & have it!.”
“Conversations with sound, tone & inflection are now considered analog…passé; and we are the poorer for it.”