Our lives may
Not be what we
Truly wish or
Now we must
Move ahead without
Envy or bitterness–
Needing each day to
Friday, December 29, 2017
Saturday, December 23, 2017
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
I no longer know what matters to such American
people. Although if I follow their leader, money
seems to be an answer. I read about the sans-gun
service of once-US Poet Laureate Frost. Does freedom
fighting of that sort count? Or is it only the power
of military and business that is worthy of praise? ‘God
bless America’ sounds hollow when your god
is only invoked to defend those Americans
wielding wealthy, masculine, white Christian power.
You threaten to sue with check-books of money,
declaring that your rights demand denied freedom
for the Other—and if that fails, you have your gun.
You angrily yell: ‘Keep your hands off our guns,
and keep your political correctness off our God!’
You claim this government is killing religious freedom.
But Christian liberty is not religious liberty; America’s
separation of Church and State proven a lie. Money
will now be our ruler—the divine right to power.
The rally ‘Vote for Life!’ becomes ‘Vote for Power!’,
as the NRA threatens, ‘Vote to Keep Your Guns!’
Once again we are reminded of the money
chiselled for worship of a lifeless, foreign god.
This is the god for which platforms of ‘Americans
First’ are throwing aware their coveted freedom.
Your ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ pursuit of freedom
is revealed to be a desperate grab for power.
You are willing to distort the elusive ‘American
Dream’; replacing and reifying it with rights to guns,
rights to give lip-service to only the Christian god,
and rights to the pursuit of money, money, money.
You say intelligence is success, measured by money.
You claim that to maintain our fought-for freedom
requires labelling and barring those who worship Allah.
You have compromised Light in order to possess power.
Driven by fear of Other, you cradle your precious guns.
Is it only You who gets to define what is Great America?
Lesson one: If I make money it will bring me power.
Lesson two: Freedom is defended by wielding a gun.
My plea: Dear God, I don’t want to be this American.
Friday, August 12, 2016
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Each morning anew I promise to feel;
Not turn things askew, nor hardened as steel.
I open my heart, whate're each day brings,
To anger and hurt and sadness that stings.
I promised to wed with my being—whole—
Let's forsake this dread and press for the goal:
Through each painful dearth, we'll discover new mirth.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Wetness licks my hand.
Perhaps my puppy—your puppy—our harrier—is seeking a playmate—
I see no wagging tail, lolling tongue, or wide puppy eyes.
It is the rain, accompanying my lithe body—I dance along the cobbled street—
I sit at my desk in the artificially-lit room, surrounded by electronic hums.
You are beside me, telling a joke—bringing tears to my eyes—
You and me—together—laughing so hard—
Your silence is palpable; your invisibility, pungent.
Another tear smudges the ink before me.
I wipe my face, trying to whisk away incrimination.
I count my blessings and tell myself I should be filled, brimming, overflowing with—