Category: Poetry

Fathers, this one’s hard for me, had real bad luck before.
I know of just one good one; but, fuck, there must be more.

Teach honesty & kindness…& empathy for all.
Model compassion for them…& catch them when they fall.

Make them proud of difference & in their efforts made.
Cast safe shadows for them; until they leave your shade.

Nudge them toward their own paths; to choose what’s right for them.
Open up your heart & they will fill it to the brim.

Parents are not perfect; yet they only need to try.
Expel old poison precepts & be there when they cry.

Be constant of character & do not shy from light.
One day you’ll be memory…so, make sure that it’s bright.

For

P

Fuck-ups will find god before finding a mirror.
They’ll seek absolution; rather than see clearer.

They need receptacles outside them for blame.
For, there’s no room inside them with all of that shame.

Their pride’s just skin deep & their heartbeats are shallow
The garden in their minds…infertile & fallow.

When first one falters, one learns; no big deal.
The moniker settles when the cycles’s a wheel.

Eventually every circle is broken.
Better to listen; than leave lessons unspoken.

Two days of the week I’m Marylyn Monroe.
One for up,one for down, one for gettin’ low.

I need to manage unpredictable days.
It keeps the rest locked in predictable ways.

There’s want & there’s need; but only one’s vital.
I need routine & it’s rigid recital.

I thrive on the structure & live in the deed.
It’s when there’s no work that my track goes to seed.

So, though I resent this, my infrequent dose.
I’m glad of the steadiness that it evokes.

I dreamt of bloody protest last night…wasn’t sweet.
Clashing divided sides rioting in the street.

Action writhed everywhere but in those who did fall.
Victims later lined up; each with red & white pall.

Slain humans lying around; like so much litter.
Evidence of parades gone by; trash & glitter.

Our safe spaces only safe until they are not.
Violent madmen triggered by the pride we’ve got.

It was only a nightmare & now it’s faded.
Hopeful the joys ahead, by fears, aren’t shaded.

It’s time to admit that it’s time to start over.
Even Rome & Paris survived their hangover.

Time to look soberly at consumption & trade.
Time to leave out the green god of money to fade.

It’s both opening night & the wrap party too.
The producers will flee & the cast will be slew.

What remains is the hall & the settings of stage.
The ushers & the orchestra fighting for wage.

Eventually, the boards will be trod once again.
Telling faded old stories with a fresh golden spin.

I’m never alone, not in my thoughts; all I have known are there.
The world is another story oft, it’s just me breathing air.

Perhaps there is room for more to breathe; if willing to they are.
I enjoy my solitude & it has carried me thus far.

Yet there is more to know in this life than family & art.
I’d welcome one who sees my wealth & would not ask me to part.

Someone who’d swell my horde of heart; by simply adding themselves.
Someone who’d swim inside my riches & mine with me my delves.

For I am fine just as I am…aware I’ve not got it all.
Though, if the right one came along, there’s room for him in my hall.

Stories dedicated to those with hopes.
Suspense & tragedy lining their tropes.

The light belied at times nearly gone.
The underdogs fighting with brains & brawn.

Characters pushed to their absolute limits.
Good & evil brawl in chaptered snippets.

Humanity present in each tale told.
Believable humans; both hot & cold.

Stress quickened pace as the numbers fly by.
First person omniscient dictates who’ll die.

He wants out for a couple days…certainly not forever.
No one mentioned the word escape…saying that’s never clever.

He knows the outside can kill you; it’s not a good place to live.
But cooped up for what seems a lifetime…something has gotta give.

Even a prisoner has furlough…even if under guard.
He wants to see past windowless walls…a walk around the yard.

Yet, his request was recorded & edited against him.
They made it sound like he asked for freedom…that costs life & limb.

His plea for leniency woven into capitol offense.
The keepers have it all on tape…the poor man has no defense.

So sad that books have lost their sway.
Pity our minds have gone astray.

We’re no longer seeking out tomes.
Bookshelves do not line our new homes.

Our love of language has soured.
No more shaped by words devoured.

We debate with false reference.
Shallow is the new preference.

Impoverished in our thinking…
Our ignorance, now, unblinking.

It’s nuts to me you’re still asleep when half the day is done.
I wonder whether you’re vampyr, hiding from the noonday sun?

The day is bright, but fading now; I greeted it at dawn.
Are you crepuscular & twilight; like dewdrops on a lawn?

I’m winding down the afternoon while you’re tossing on your cot.
What does the nighttime have for you that the broad daylight does not?

You are fond of interactive screens dividing you from life.
Don’t you hear the high-pitched reveille of the morning wood’s fife?

Our ships will pass, as our cycles align, once in a blue moon.
If it happens when the sun is out; I wonder if you’ll swoon?