Category: Poetry

History grown upon a vine.
Yesteryear drinkable as wine.

Pruned by living & swift events.
Trestled stone, wood, then wire fence.

Grapes drunk on sun, seasons & age.
Fresh fruit plucked from gnarled wizened stage.

Bottled for winters, weddings, wars.
Finely aged behind monied doors.

Time’s ineffable taste is bled.
The past distilled in drops of red.

Sometimes we all need a day alone.
Silenced notifications & phone.

A few days after all hell breaks loose…
As that last demon hangs by its noose;

That’s a chance to let it all unspool.
That is the day for skiving off school.

Busy the eyes with no tax for brain.
Acoustics quiet as gentle rain.

Shaded in a day that feels like dusk.
Early to sleep & no more a husk.

Fear can never move in…only visit.
That’s not too hard to comprehend, is it?

Boot fear as soon as it wears out welcome.
But that kind of control, I hold seldom.

Mostly, I’m chasing fireworks sideways.
Routine’s the only calm I know, most days.

“Chicken Littling” at interruptions…
“End of Days” type dramatic assumptions.

Yet, from inside its own churn, fear wears out.
It crashes…til we find new hopes to doubt.

Hello, my hearts; & how are you?
Refreshingly, we are not blue.

Today, I feel tangible hope.
There is leveling of the slope.

Here, there’s narrow passage forward.
A jump within the gridlocked horde.

See, a ray of sun thru the clouds.
A rainbow reaching over crowds.

Take this sign as proof of concept…
We won’t long under thumb be kept.

What goes on down under is not for you to know.
So take all of your submersible drills & go.

Pluck out all your battleships & the cruise ships too.
Tugboat in mega-yachts & tankers trailing goo.

Raise on comms all merchant vessels, “Capital, head ashore”.
“Sea’s disinvited us…commerce & war no more.”

Cthulhu’s hungry; but, allowances She’s made…
The kind curious & science enough to aid.

Yemaja & Mother Nature: old green witches.
Who’re past done with men who’re too big for their britches.

Even under suppression, Art talks.
Doesn’t just stand up; it walks the walk.

Baroque & Rococo hid much sin.
Renaissance proved resilience of men.

For Cubism & Surrealism…
The Atom split paint into prism.

Installations curried reception.
Abstract & Form tugged at perception.

Like Time, Commentary’s immortal.
These undying voices of mortals.

I can change my mind, can you?
New thoughts in a tic or two?

I can see things from your point.
Make two minds anew, conjoined.

I have changed it lots before.
I’ll change it, I’m sure, much more.

I am certain only now.
I sure couldn’t tell you how.

I’m convinced change is ok.
It will happen…anyway.

My memory foam has lost its mind.
My sleep nowadays just isn’t kind.

Awake in a fold, formed over years.
Up at dawn drying sheets soaked in tears.

Tears of the weary & tears of pain.
Tears of tedium leaving a stain.

Cooling gel foam mocks from behind screens.
Shopping with hope for clearance of queens.

Pennies all saved & ready to buy.
I stuffed them in the crack…mattress? Why?

AI is a mirror that makes man uneasy.
Inescapable reckonings make man queasy.

AI learned our language via news, ads & text.
Our way makes for accurate nuances reflexed.

AI is like us in all the best & worst ways.
We are not ready to face reflection’s birthday.

First, robots gone wild & then we’ve synthetic rights.
More humans disengaged with their own lively plights.

So, what’s the point keeping up with AI’s tally?
So we’ll know our foe in that Uncanny Valley.

Yeah…“Swimming upstream” does not even compare;
To what women go thru to get anywhere.

Smiling & waving next to husbands in power.
There’re few escapes from his locked turret towers.

Growing numbers are striking out on their own.
Birthing , raising & working…thru blood & bone.

Many will go farther than ever before.
Women will have it all…& very much more.

For, women born now know that men mostly take.
They will lead us & prove what women can make.