Category: Poetry

Time to dismantle my bed & my nest.
This groove where I rest & plot my next best.

The place where I sweated & puked out sludge.
The spot where pain, sleep & death would not budge.

Once demolished, I can make an escape;
Build a new nest with a livelier shape.

Still, the perfect perch to plot ambitions…
Larger spaces & loftier missions.

For, this bed, oftentimes, felt like a trap.
The new one; life’s springboard & more…perhaps.

Magick to me is pre-forgiveness…
Without a book or thru man’s business.

That there is a rare ability.
To view the ends; before all else see.

To know bad weather’s headed your way…
You must survive night to get new days.

So, blame is shed in survival’s name.
Can’t litigate each foul; during games.

Thus, down the road we’ll look at the tape…
Name which verdicts you should not escape.

By hook or by crook; we’ll make it right.
By pre-forgiving…or clearing blight.

Lip service given & lip service received.
Gushing tearful promises meant to deceive.

I wonder what they’ll do when they know they’re got.
I wonder if the lesson is learned…or not.

Is there more dishonor on the horizon?
Or, is this our turning point; have we wizened?

Me? I’m forgiving…until I’ve no fucks left.
Then, dams break loose & all’s taken in one heft.

I can move past; whether with or without you.
All would rather see healing than much ado.

Peace & Hope seem quaint ideals today…
Since dark themes captured our state of play.

Censorship, oppression & attacks on aid.
Fast moves towards autocracy already made.

The first steps were taken in the dead of night.
Healthcare, late night satire & some civil rights.

Won’t abandon free speech in favor of guns…
Without regard for ending up on the run.

As pendulums swing, this one’s out of control.
Enforcing new middles will damage the whole.

I don’t want to die; nor does anyone else.
Yet, all are burned & buried neath soft green felts.

We strut, we fret, we grow dim & we go out.
We dream & we hope; all, while riddled with doubt.

Our star daily plays out our lives on the run.
Dim dawn, bright days; then, shadowed dusk ends the fun.

Reverse river rocks; we start smooth & grow rough.
It’s how we survive an existence so tough.

Could have more in common with fiery skies…
Night’s death would be easy, if chased with sunrise.

Humble has descended many times on me.
Learning from each wipeout a new way to be.

I hope humble visits me all of my life.
My pride & ego checked by each self-made strife.

The trick’s dropping the assumption that I’m right.
Accepting I see less than moonless midnights.

That’s just when humility lends me vision.
Admit & apologize…heal division.

Humility’s growth forgives my deepest dearth…
The freshly meek know truth provides fertile earth.

When school’s over you are no more their teachers.
Just reference & patronage…not preachers.

Take heart! For, by reference, you’ll have ingress.
Minus their exposition, lectures weigh less.

The startup info you 10,000 fold pecked;
That’s where memory meets instinct to protect.

See, your voice is theirs & also, vice versa.
Even short inactions feel like inertia.

Credit, in the moment, may not be given.
Be glad they mind any lessons you’ve driven.

We all have narcissism; to a degree.
Does my awareness of it thwart this disease?

Much like many; I have self-likes & dislikes.
Yet, quests for ageless beauty can all take hikes.

Self-awareness is one of my many haunts.
Knew I was strange, way too young, from needs to wants.

So, yes. I’ve known mirrors my entire life.
In theory, in glass & in new butcher’s knife.

Makes me wonder how many narcissists drowned…
Way back when reflection was only in-ground.

Okay, come on Hollywood, imitate life.
Step up to the platforms with which you are rife.

Not just the august dames with little to lose…
Or the proud out legends who’ve led Broadway’s crews.

It’s not up to Streep, or Lane, or Shonda.
For her entire career, has stepped up Fonda.

Both young leading men & young leading ladies…
Change hearts & minds like you did in the eighties.

For, art should ever be a balance of scales.
It’s evident truths ensuring evil fails.

So…show us where we’re wrong & how we can grow.
Should be personal…for the business of show.

All these years & rarely writ a sentence twice.
A fact that is somehow surprisingly nice.

I’ve fondled several topics for many days.
I build round the same thoughts in different ways.

I try to look out from in & in from out.
Explore what’s up & what my self’s all about.

I’ve over-dissected my brain, heart & soul.
Often, I visit these three wells with my bowl.

For each bit of pride there is always a price.
Here…I will come close to the same sentence twice.