Category: Poetry

Time is a story; our climax a star.
Its shine reflects the whole of who we are.

So what would light have to say about you?
Do you live within the gray as most do?

Focus on eaves & leave most in the rain.
Yes, end-zones score; but it’s a full campaign.

Polarization’s an absolute lie.
Fine feathered fringes can’t over gulfs fly.

Reconsider which characters to cull.
We make you special…without us you’re dull.

Once upon a time you were gruff fear to me.
Now, you’re all elderly disability.

Who are you now without instruction’s control?
How can you serve others from your self-dug hole?

We worry about the pain that you’re in.
How do you cope? You weren’t the strongest of men.

Goodbye comes next; but I know not what to say.
You’re ready to go. I’ll not stand in your way.

Endearment just wasn’t on your bucket list.
There’ll be a measure of grief & you’ll be missed.

A pack of wolves in iniquity’s den.
A pack of wealthy, predatory men.

Insert malware in structural servers.
Tech bro-dudes with a dangerous fervor.

Our ports of entry now just for the white?
South Africans longing for apartheid.

Passing abominations while we sleep.
That is where the deep-state gets really deep.

We wake to terror with no solution.
Maybe it’s time for a revolution?

These sad & sullied pitiful creatures.
The ones we all love to hate in features.

What is Count Dracula’s favorite blood type?
Are the Werewolf & Mummy stupid ripe?

My rosy recall of classic monsters…
Much like Gotham’s Families of Mobsters.

We do love to love & we love to hate.
Edward Scissorhands must not masturbate.

Whatever the ridiculous premise…
People love a redeemable menace.

Of the “Bully Pulpit” I’ve heard for years.
It’s never been any more real than fears.

Yet, now, it’s the favored practice today.
Blaming fringes serves political play.

The meek are not uplifted or aided.
Even bold bright margins, now, feel hated.

Their main goal: is that we’ll do it for them.
At each other’s throats; destruction’s golem.

Do your best, be kind, helpful & grateful.
Take away the ammo used by the hateful. 

I do a lot with what little I’ve got.
I can do this because I’m me; you’re not.

Though, perhaps you have the same thing inside?
That thing that shows you horizons are wide?

There’s plenty of room there for planting flags.
Who’ll even make it but hobblers & hags.

I’ve always been privy to survival…
Also, tricks that guarantee revival.

I have aim, stories & my trusty wit.
I stand on horizons…the comeback kid.

Sadly, rebellion, now, is kindness.
Clear away fogs & cure their blindness.

Perform small miracles every day.
Random acts of mischievous play.

Serve the looks that they would never dare.
Give to them each brand new sparkling cares.

Push the envelope & clean up spills.
Be the soulful nourishment that fills.

Look at the people that others can’t.
Each act of service a seed we plant.

She said I was “bona fide”.
You know lady never lied.

She said I was, “one of us”.
No more need for feeling “plus”.

Just a core family member…
With a sock in December.

Wait while edicts trickle down.
Spread throughout our fertile ground.

Love & hope’s blooms are tender.
Time overgrows pretenders.

Hope that chilly hearts will melt.
Why?…When we know Love’s been dealt.

Most of my life has been played to a modal tune.
A lovely little song nailed down by misfortune.

It flits along with a confidence unfounded.
Trips, or falls, or slips do not long keep me grounded.

Soon, I am off like a shot; whistling all the way.
Still, jaunty bouncing…no heed to obstacles laid.

Possessed by a folksy pluck from…I know not where.
Floats me from life’s whirlpools & sweetens fetid air.

Chin up clunking thru it all…each third step, a slip.
I just laugh at life’s bullies. Then, I write my quips.