Nevertheless, there is still Love.
Nevertheless, the Sky still hangs above.
Nevertheless, the World is still spinning.
Nevertheless, Death is calcareously grinning.
Nevertheless, Life goes on for those still living.
Nevertheless, Pain is a gift that keeps on giving.
Nevertheless, I walk the path I chose in Life.
Nevertheless, there’s still plenty of Strife.
Nevertheless, I accept my lot.
Nevertheless, I slide into my slot.
Nevertheless, this is how it goes.
Nevertheless, when it will stop nobody knows.
Never the less I rise to the challenge.
I’m Never the Less out here on the fringe.
I am forced to look in not out.
I am forced to live with no one about.
I am forced to write my truth at times.
I am forced to live in in-climate climes.
I am forced to question what I hear.
I’m forced to save truths in my ear.
I’m forced to use my blood as ink.
I’m forced to watch as the world I know sinks.
I’m forced to hold several weights in my heart.
I’m forced to hold pains there all pieces & parts.
I’m forced to carry the sins of youth.
I’m forced to play though it’s all uncouth.
I’m forced to care & count & flee.
I’m forced to deal because the dealer is me.
It’s broken, it’s broken, it’s broken wide open. The shape of my heart is gone
It’s beaten, it’s beaten, it’s beaten beyond recognition…hurt, broken & trod on.
Though it is bent, rent & bashed it tries to beat anyway. Still attending the body it belongs to.
The body stumbles over & picks up the pieces & puts them in place though beaten black & blue.
At home again inside my chest the painful healing starts.
The healing of hearts is a matter effort & time…less a science & more an art.
The heart hurts with each beat like lightning ricocheting in the bottle of the body.
Eventually the pain fades but never fully goes away…the heart works but the work is shoddy.
My blood remains thick & inky pumping slowly & painfully through each vein.
So I open one in front of you & read you a broken heart’s refrain.
Bouncing dust and rumbling water…something lumbers this way.
Know way of knowing in the dark gloaming what monster comes this day.
Will there be scratching claws and serrated talons; will flesh be rent?
Or will it be a creature of the mind behind the eyes the spark of flint?
Just tell me what monster will be here today; will I be paralyzed by fears?
I can’t defend what I do not know yet you’d leave me drowning in tears.
I fight what comes, come what may, since it’s variable from dusk to dawn.
I try to be better & cope. At least I can say, day to day, life is never a yawn.
I speak to you now, today’s monster, I do not care to fight.
For two score years I’ve beaten each one of you & plan ahead for whichever each night.
You will not make me live or die paralyzed by my fears.
Forget antagonizing me daily I’ve defeated you daily for years.
You’re in my life & I accept that…but you’re beaten & hung on my shelf.
Knowing your monsters is half of the fight; the rest is defiance itself.
I’m a wreckage of good intentions.
I’m the wine glass you just dropped.
I’m a dwindling pension.
I’m a balloon just popped.
I’m all the potential broken in half.
I am bright paint spilt on the rug.
I’m a stifled laugh.
I’m a guarded hug.
I’m that thing just out of reach.
I’m the way you cannot teach.
I’m the reason for anxious tension.
I am the wreckage of good intentions.
Turn on the lights…turn on the color.
Let’s see everything there is to discover.
Strip away illusion…strip away wishes.
See it for the war, the damage of militias.
See it for the fire, for the smoke & embers.
See the world as it is, not how one remembers.
Open up the truth for all to witness.
See our leaders for their unfitness.
Once you’ve cried you’re last tear of mourning.
Scream in protest & attack without warning.
Attack the precepts, the quo & institutions.
Demand change & growth demand restitutions.
Fight battles bitter & grim. Learn from loss.
Or be a collaborator…happy to live in the gloss.
Isolation breeds boredom & getting lost in thought. The poets’ pen, not ink.
We sit in boredom & see things in macro just thinking thinking Think!
Then thought is broken by the voice of the heart & that’s when things get murky.
The collision & friction of the mind & heart produces an alphabet soup that’s quirky.
None of it forms words or makes any sense… blood rises & we get busy.
Arranging & rearranging letter by letter the heady task makes our heads & hearts fizzy.
As photons of inspiration crash into our brains considering the best words to write next.
We rack our brains for rhymes & our hearts to divine the great connects.
Couplets or stanzas start to form & all falls into place.
Next thing you know there’s a cloud on your page carrying the weight of a mace.
The hands can’t keep up with the frenzy & then it’s over as quickly as it started.
With every piece, thought & heart separate & we despair they’ll forever be parted.
There’s a dirty greasiness in the air; a fell voice upon the wind.
Democracy is barely holding against the gale. It hasn’t broke. It’s meant to bend.
Where there is fire there is always smoke. It’s drought & zephyr fed.
How many deaths will it take to see this period dead.
We fret that our new normal is not just temporary.
We’re in close quarters with a deadly animal, scared & constantly harried.
Things are rough. There’s no denying it. The country’s running scared.
Half are running one way & everyone else the other. The one half with their arms bared.
Mother Nature is screaming at us all no matter our material issues.
She’s pissed & out for revenge for centuries of rape & misuse
I have no happy moral here for I am caught up too.
All this is very clear to me but I don’t know what to do.
In a beam of light filled with mystic gold that turns to dust when it passes through.
Worth about as much as money which is our agreed upon lie between me & you.
It’s as real as the gold dust in a passing corona of light.
Do we still agree upon this lie when we both know it’s not right?
Paper, gold, pounds & pence the lie can’t go on forever.
But not many agree with these words & can’t let go…not ever.
They’ll ride this horse towards a burning barn & be engulfed in flames.
But, when the lie fails & it’s masters have self immolated we won’t recall they’re names.
Yes there are dragons here in brilliant binary code.
Here today & gone tomorrow along with all our gold?
This binary digital social scape we made is nothing but 1s & 0s.
It’s so much gossamer & agreed upon lies & we no longer manufacture heroes.
Digitally banking our data away these dragons are so constant & persistent.
The dragons have counted & hoarded us while we chatted to our contentment.
So since we can’t slay them, can we contain them? Can they be wrangled by Laws?
We’ve already lost so much of ourselves & all around me are still gaping maws.
I’m not conveying anything you don’t already know. It’s about participation.
As long as we do, we might well get used to a permanent occupation.