Category: Poetry

Grow up humans! It’s not too late!
Keep separate your church & state!

Imaginary friends are fine.
But forcing thought crosses a line.

They don’t belong inside our schools.
Denying science makes us fools.

Belief’s a choice that’s intimate.
Collective is the state’s remit.

Too late to go our separate ways.
Free speech is where our progress lays.

We must not burn this whole thing down.
We, the people? We wear no crown.

It’s hard enough to just get by.
We should not have to hide & lie.

Sense should always rule this land.
Right now, its reign is in our hand.

A simple choice with pen & ink…
For freedom over what we think.

The harbor lady’s torch & book?
America’s theme? That’s our hook.

Betwixt scarab & beetle;
I thread a novel needle.

I’m loved or tolerated…
Between welcome & hated.

Preferring to be needed…
Without agency ceded.

My hope is true belonging…
Sincerely; not by fawning.

With patient, silent, pleading…
I follow my heart’s leading.

Piece by piece pick up the shards.
Keep an eye for any guards.

Move with shadows hold your breath.
Not tonight & not this death.

Hiding, move to safer dawn.
Be not terror’s willing pawn.

Night makes solid fogs of fright.
Light of day cleans darkness bright.

Know that morning soon will come.
Sun, burn fear to where it’s from. 

Now, I’m not drawing lines in sand…don’t want to tempt fates.
Yet, they’re not real;  so, I’m dropping shame & all its weights.

I know there is a deadline & no rehearsal time.
I best my best each day & I wrap it up in rhyme. 

Excepting my bitten tongue, I speak my heart & mind.
Lies are not my forte…I am earnestly inclined.

Though, I’m not above rare mischief…or a chance to flirt;
I’m just enough of a snob to coast clear of the dirt.

For better or worse, more or less, this is who I am.
I’ve lived thru the worst of it; so, consequence be damned.

We have no need of your prestidigitation.
Your gold leaf trough slopped for a desperate nation.

So much rot flows freely past your absent filter.
It corrupts the mind & throws balance off kilter.

Absurdly, you rob lying of all its deceit.
For, it’s all you can do & that is no mean feat.

You’ve openly bragged of your toxic prurience.
You dodge all tax for entitled experience.

Still, people will vote to lap up  your spewed sickness.
I guess snake oil is key in greasing foul slickness.

How does a creative queer navigate war?
Does a life lived in gray help one moderate more?

It’s a gift to be seen & invisible too…
Dotting lines of divide that two enemies drew.

To resist or collaborate is a coin flipped?
Both have hidden sheathed blades that are oft double dipped.

The big picture goal of conflict is survival…
For nobodies neither incumbent nor rival.

History tells lies that evaporate with time.
It’s distance & perspective that strips it of grime.

I don’t mind owing a kindness or favor.
They’re the only debts that I can savor.

Money’s too salty for this palate of mine.
It dehydrates the heart in its murky brine.

Coin withers the soul when it’s obligated.
Living in the red has an edge serrated.

Yet, giving has the feel of magical flare.
You have more when you do it…but less is there.

A heart pumps floods when in generous effort.
The soul is enriched & things lose their import.

Read or don’t read; it doesn’t matter.
Maybe this will endear & flatter.

I try too hard…I am what I am.
I care too much & I give a damn.

Don’t need praise or a book report…
Just encouraged & engaged support.

Both are givens; but it’s nice to hear.
Valued opinions are never mere.

If you have now read up to this dot.
Say what I gave…or what you did not.

Is there any blame left to go around?
Have you condemned the sky & cursed the ground?

Are we grown-ups yet or still little kids?
Do we have real say if we’re on the skids?

Do the years add up; but not the powers?
Are we meant to live in boxy towers?

Why are love & coin dispensed in minutes?
Why are needs & wants expressed in limits?

Are sacrifice & kindness passé?
Or, did those before us shape life this way?

I have aged, save my heart, because I dared not overuse it.
It’s made it thru life’s gauntlets safe from bruising or its blood spilt.

It’s only early on that it knew injury or insult.
It healed itself & hid itself before it became adult.

Within its cage of bones it has worked steady without flutters.
Only once or twice has it been tempted to peek thru shutters.

Though, it’s always darted back to task at sight of ruddy flags.
Weighted knowledge of the world outside routinely haunts & nags.

It’s said that good things come to those of diligence & patience.
Its unused vigor spent on function; not on love’s obeisance.