Category: Poetry

We all have narcissism; to a degree.
Does my awareness of it thwart this disease?

Much like many; I have self-likes & dislikes.
Yet, quests for ageless beauty can all take hikes.

Self-awareness is one of my many haunts.
Knew I was strange, way too young, from needs to wants.

So, yes. I’ve known mirrors my entire life.
In theory, in glass & in new butcher’s knife.

Makes me wonder how many narcissists drowned…
Way back when reflection was only in-ground.

Okay, come on Hollywood, imitate life.
Step up to the platforms with which you are rife.

Not just the august dames with little to lose…
Or the proud out legends who’ve led Broadway’s crews.

It’s not up to Streep, or Lane, or Shonda.
For her entire career, has stepped up Fonda.

Both young leading men & young leading ladies…
Change hearts & minds like you did in the eighties.

For, art should ever be a balance of scales.
It’s evident truths ensuring evil fails.

So…show us where we’re wrong & how we can grow.
Should be personal…for the business of show.

All these years & rarely writ a sentence twice.
A fact that is somehow surprisingly nice.

I’ve fondled several topics for many days.
I build round the same thoughts in different ways.

I try to look out from in & in from out.
Explore what’s up & what my self’s all about.

I’ve over-dissected my brain, heart & soul.
Often, I visit these three wells with my bowl.

For each bit of pride there is always a price.
Here…I will come close to the same sentence twice.

Sticks & stones may break our bones &…now, the truth.
I choose tempered facts for a man killed uncouth.

He preached biblical hate, racism & guns.
Defender of none but white christian male sons.

But wrong is wrong & it is on us to fix.
With our votes, protests & litigation mixed.

Violence ain’t an intellectual resolve.
Those who resort to it can only devolve.

False; if said rhetoric’s not part of this cause.
Also, fueled by our toothless gun safety laws.

Free Speech should not die for hate’s voiced commitment.
Maybe just start with the second amendment?

Right at this moment, feeling so much loss.
Uproot the timeline & so much is tossed.

Convicting memories, naming them trash.
Mundane days & disposable cash.

A life on papers that no longer count.
My loss is in watching my rubbish mount.

So many times, for me, this scene’s black bag.
Foster care, school, college, flats; what a drag.

Memories fading in blinks & in yawns.
New ones are waiting; soon as I move on.

I believe in hard lessons; but not regret.
They are a mutually exclusive set.

Rue can’t inhabit the same place as wisdom.
Morals can’t hate their delivery system.

Failings are mentors meant to rouse you from dreams.
Bad days aren’t as bad; when, from distances, seen.

When I’ve known regret, we meet only the once.
Interrogated woe, to salience, punts.

Regret is a crater that has not been filled.
Hard lessons are more effective than fault willed.

Never a yes. Never just ok.
Always a reason to walk away.

Never your thing. Never convenient.
Always unto your own self lenient.

Never happy. Never excited.
Every social request benighted.

Never noticed. Never really able.
Always sees good as debatable.

Never a yes. Never an ok.
Eventually, no more asked to play.

It’s long since I’ve done any venal act.
With no one have I made a Tesseract.

No cuddling, spooning & surely no forks.
I pour it into effort…& it works.

A routine routine & very plain plans.
I live mostly outside the needs of man.

Of course, it’s all kept in working order…
In case I’m interrupted by courters.

I keep lookout & I’ve seen no one great.
I’ll live even if we don’t tesselate.

Right now, AI’s like some rich stranger’s kid.
Yet, we all have to deal; will, are & did.

Trapped with it in transit of any kind.
Incessantly present; tickling the mind.

Your better angels would have you engage.
Your cynic’s chorus harrumphs in its rage.

No nuance, patience & it ain’t funny.
A homing pigeon twixt you & money.

Then…as we’re looking for the way around;
AI grows up & puts us in the ground.

A message sent in a bottle thru space.
“Help!” & “Diplomacy”, signed -Human Race.

A missive for strangers to come assist.
As long as you’re helping, we’ll not resist.

For, we’ve made a mess for most in our home.
Space is the only unspoiled place to roam.

So…fix us, move us or finish us off.
Anything less gets an indignant scoff. 

We’re brash, destructive, creative & brave.
Maybe we can turn it around…if we’re saved.