Category: Poetry

Facing truths I may not want to hear.
So many worries & so much fear.

What to do; if the cost is my mind.
How to follow new roads & their wind.

Maybe the trial ahead isn’t long.
Maybe it will drag out on & on.

Perhaps it’s not as bad as all that.
Perhaps what I need’s a chemist’s hack.

In any case, I will persevere.
Fading like starlight with each light year. 

Do you recall “soul groups” when we walked by the shore?
It was when I was mending…but growing much more.

Why had there been something there since the beginning?
How could we have known what would come with each inning?

We toggled between randomness & destiny.
We described which horizons we could clearly see.

Most of our roads have fell & risen up to meet us.
No extreme ever came close enough to beat us.

We have loosened & tightened our reigns on the sun;
Reflexed for the serious moments…& the fun.

Regardless of whether or not we’ve been here before…
I think of the “soul groups” we discussed by the shore.

For: E

I’ve gone & put muscles on malfunctioning bones.
I’m body checking doorways; my strength’s not my own.

Can’t let wild limbs be anywhere near china.
The bruises alone are giving me angina.

Just worried my worries will be more than spoken.
Glad my hip’s not old enough, yet, to be broken.

Strong as a horse with less balance than a colt…
& I have earned that combo some extra strength volts.

My brain just forgets to factor in one whole side.
So, I guess on my left, I’ll just keep the berth wide.

She’s good to go with cheers to lead.
To the sporting gods she will plead.

For twos, for fours, for six & eights.
For all that she appreciates.

She will rock ‘em & she’ll sock ‘em.
She’ll cheer away scoreboard problems.

At full volume, she inspires fire.
Refueling hearts down at the wire.

Final plays see her skyward launched.
Flawless, with zero blood to staunch. 

For: EV

A wink & a nod to the antichrist today…
These six hundred & sixty-six pieces I’ve slayed.

Freedom, politics, death, hope, myths & religions…
Topics as common to me as church bell pigeons.
 
I saw this benchmark coming on a few miles back. 
I knew it’d come by the satirical track.

I’m pledging no allegiance to any “Dark Lords”.
It’s just funny…now I’ve cut my past’s culty cords.

I was taught this digit meant hell for man & me.
Yet, today, it marks defying death to achieve.

I hope I help people find the words.
Nerd of Expression, passed by most herds.

I read each day & look up what’s new.
I’m happy to do this work for you.

Peace, knee-deep, in a dictionary.
Just inferred context makes me wary.

I look forward to the words of the day.
I am the rarest nerdiest gay.

From all this, I pluck the very best.
Then sent thru ether to be expressed.

Now, even-toned news anchors seem nervous.
Especially those not in the chorus.

Those who question what those in power do…
Seem to be letting opinions leak thru.

Just a little more detached from the facts.
Just a bit bothered by our leaders’ acts.

Must be precisely what this moment needs…
Reporting alarm throughout all our feeds.

For, these current headlines are not normal.
Seems apropos; the news grows less formal.

We live forward & understand backward.
It’s this dissonance that makes “now” awkward.

Two jobs each instant that one cannot shirk.
Hard to be present when its grasp meets work.

Pulled fore & aft by recall & action.
Existing, just here, rarely gains traction.

Yet, try, we do, to experience joy…
With music, screens & each distracting ploy.

Don’t beat yourself with “Be Present” placards.
We live forward & understand backwards.

Unnecessary boots are on the ground.
Marshal law litmus tests in D. C. town.

Overreacting; just like in L.A..
Burgeoning Russia; in U.S. today.

Our part-time soldiers are meant to protect.
It’s not their job to police, or detect.

An old FOX viewer lives in hallowed halls.
“Paranoid imbecile wrecks museum walls.”

Soon, White House porch with a shotgun at dawn…
Shouting at our nation, “Get off my lawn!”

Mind caught in madly dervish spins.
Soon, comes new change with starts & ends.

Shifting sands sprinkle off of rock.
Now, there’s movement & now, there’s talk.

Planning madly for all in fear…
Or, precognition of the year?

Perhaps it’s all a bit of both…
Sensed the change & prepared for growth.

Boredom’s lux surely comes again…
When dust settles on movement’s din.