Better Ways for Brighter Days?

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Shrouded in doubt, clouded by deception, we wait for the reception
Of some new conception that will wipe away our tears and all fears,
Yet knowing that no selection in any election will lead to perfection;
Our destination is cremation of our nation to which we give nutation
Without thinking or even blinking; we just wink and nod and go on
About our business as usual, which is unusual for people in distress,
But why obsess over the inevitable, or impress with vain knowledge
When it’s easier to repress our feelings peeling away at our souls?
Here then is the conundrum of living in a dying kingdom with lying
Queen and bellicose autocrat vying to sit in the white tower of power:
What choice do people have with no voice, and over what to rejoice?
Ah! But most are intent to remain content, so long as they belong
To the games and the circus goes on with all silly gaffs and laughs
Without a thought that this happy show has been bought at the price
Of liberty by simplicity of trickery grown from the gross fertility
Of unchecked, wicked wizardry of those who hide in dark anonymity;
But will the simplicity of it all finally
Shine through the red, white and blue?
Will we see and refuse to bend the knee
To such insidious, political cruelty?
Are there better ways for brighter days?

Sweet Stream of Endless Dreams

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Slowly rising steam from sweet, warm stream meandering
Through my soul filling every hole, and what will you
Whisper to me this day? Ray of hope, perhaps, and miles
Of smiles with no one to beguile my heart, tear it apart,
Leaving me forlorn? And maybe you will nudge me to raise
Up my horn of salvation in exaltation of all that is good
And worthy and true in this new, never-ending beginning?
Oh, sweet stream that flows from without within, can we
Begin to dance round the rugged pole and prance about
Like hinds in high places with spaces filled with love
And laughter from now till hereafter? And let me wash
In your steaming springs to bring purity to body, mind
And spirit, to unbind the better part of me ever so caked
In muck and mire; and pull me forth from dire position
Of life rife with pain with no gain, giving me possession
Of hours free from oppression but filled with expressions
Of deep joy that will be mine to keep, e’en though I sleep;
And will you bid me kiss the sky as you sing me soft lullaby
To dry my tears and end my cry? Oh, will it be sweet slumber
By you, my slowly flowing stream meandering through my soul?
Ah! Meander through my soul sweet stream of endless dreams!
Meander through my soul… Meander through my soul…

Blue: In Memoriam

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Red soaks strangely into blue but so few know the agony
Of patently cruel revenge upon the innocent for crimes
Accused though these pure souls did not abuse or misuse
What power they’d been given to stand like strong towers
Of resistance against the persistence of evil lurking
In the murky waters of back alleys and two-bit stores
Where whores hang for nickels and dimes while the clock
Chimes one after midnight, but there they shine a light,
Making their presence known and for this they’re blown
Away to never see another day, and never a ray of hope
Shines on gilded badge as the vagabond swigs his wine,
Wipes his lips and says, ‘Well ain’t that just fine!’
Tears are shed for fallen heroes as more rioters head
For the streets and storefronts claiming all rights
Justified by the persistent blight of their existence
As more glass is crashed and cars are smashed while
Pretended preachers stoke the fire, building a funeral
Pyre for an entire nation without realizing they’re
Screaming for their own castration as they succumb
To the temptation of rage, leading to the privation
Of home, family, church and community and the breaking
Of all unity and thus all hope for what is good and true
…including the brave men and women in blue, tis true!
…including the brave men and women in blue…

 

Dedication: To all of the courageous men and women, who serve in law enforcement across this country ~ the United States ~ and in remembrance of those who have sacrificed their lives in the line of duty, especially those gunned down in cold-blooded murder.

Toy or More?

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Ah! Don’t be so coy! Play with my life like a new toy,
In the same game, perhaps, but have fun as the sun
Rises on this brand new day; I’ll not stand in your way;
Yeah, that’s right, put me on your tray and serve me up
To sup on my soul in your lust — it’s Abyss or bust —
But I’m just here for the ride, really nowhere to hide,
And no reason to wait cause I took your bait, repentance
Too late, you see, so for me it’s but the fiery furnace
Heated seven times over as the bell chimes my fate,
And there’s only one open gate and that to the flames,
But who’s to blame? It’s all the same when you take
That first step forward, however awkward, along such
Darkened road with heavy load of care you’d cast off
At any price, even a slice of your soul, but is not such
Relief ever so nice, though you lose you in the bargain
Amid the hyper-jargon of salvation without any savior?
And yet there is this brighter light still dimly glowing,
And murmur sounds of an eternal stream still flowing,
And the silent hush of heavenly breath still blowing
To make me wonder if being a toy is some sinister ploy
To tame me into pawn played in an unnecessary game.
Am I not more than a game piece with mere lease on life?
More than cheap trinket to keep till buried so deep?
Am I not a man … man with a soul?

Ah! The Writing on the Wall

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And so I began again cause you lured me in,
Down the same ole trek at your beck and call
Even knowing I’d fall, but I was sand blind
On the unkind road with grace unbestowed

And the writing on the wall
Told me the horror story all,
But I was bound to stand tall
Never flat on my face I’d fall

I walked the path laid before me as you bade
Prayed with every step as your flute played
Some sad, silly song for one gone so wrong
Along with the throng of other foul lovers

And the writing on the wall
Told me the horror story all,
But I was bound to stand tall
Never flat on my face I’d fall

And I should’ve known cause I’d been shown
What pitfalls lay ahead when in bed with you,
What score of the devilish whore you’d settle
With innocence in dissonance of sad coronach

Ah! But the writing on the wall
And the horror did not forestall
My hell-bent mind to stand tall
Though on my ugly face I’d fall!

Oh, the heaven-sent letter was written clear
Without smudge or smear, to show the better
Of choices to make in chorus of angelic voices
… but I began again cause you lured me in

You lured me in again with one sweet call,
Though the writing was clearly on the wall,
Writing on the wall…
Writing on the wall…

We Weep As We Pray

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What happens when words fail and tears are all we have?
Walking in a trail of blood, no good food for the soul,
And heart cracks; weight of the world breaks our backs;
But the tragedy continues to unfold as bold and vicious
Enemies of life rampage the whole world stage; we weep
And keep upsending our prayers to the One who will care,
And we lay bare our lives, confess the lies we’ve told,
And ask, ‘When will You hear the cries of the innocent,
And see the tears of the victims of hate?’ We are bait
For the soldiers of hate, and we wonder if it’s our fate
To simply die as so many have died while simply living
Still-to-be-told lives; and we cry all the more as we try
Not to imagine what might be in store for our beloved,
For our communities, our countries … our very selves…
We weep as we pray…
We weep as we pray…

Note: Dedicated to the victims of Nice, France as well as to all the peoples subjected to horrendous, inhuman terrorism. Also, we bear in heart and mind the residents of Turkey, praying for an end to the dangerous turmoil in that nation.

As the Wind Whips Round the Corner

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How can you know, when the wind whips round the corner,
What debris it will bring, or what song it will sing?
Perhaps flower petals will fly around you, bound for
Nowhere and everywhere, and perhaps some song sung
By myriad colors of rainbow ecstasy will leave you
Breathlessly joyful, or again some elegy unexpected
Turn your heart mournful in sudden loss of love so dear
And near now gone on, as the wind whips round the corner;
How can you know what life will show from the shadows,
Or when you may see the bone hand holding scythe high
Under dark sky? And will you question why now, then bow?
And what angel may fly low to brush your fevered brow
With heavenly wing to bring cool peace at conclusion
Of your lease on life, as wind whips round the corner?
As the wind whips round the corner…

 

Just Sleep … Just Sleep

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Oh ho! Listen! What will take you off this train of emotional pain?
Where the hell is the out-door to the floor of regained sanity?
Sound the bell for the bright, little pill that’ll take you uphill!
That’s right! No need for fright, fight, or flight; just pop it,
And all will be well, but… oh, you may feel kinda numb and dumb,
But no more plumbing the depths of emotion or reeling from feeling;
No more dealing with any desperation for healing…
Now ain’t that appealing!
Ah, maybe two or three more to stop the revolving door of insanity;
Just remember, there’s no place for vanity here, my dear,
But no sheer terror either, and isn’t that nice; your brain’ll be ice!
Oh, and here’s a nice vest made from the best, and it’s for you, too!
God, did you say? Oh now, now … God is but a wink and a nod
And perchance even a rod if you’re naughty; would you like a toddy?
Just lay down your body; you’re feeling groggy, no doubt?
Ah, just a bout with the medication in dedication to your health;
It works in stealth, but the wealth it brings’ll make you feel
Like a king… An emotional pauper, you say? So improper of you!
Now where are you going? We’ve just got the needle ready
For your arm so you don’t harm yourself anymore like a boar…
Wait! Come back here and take your bait! Stop all this nonsense
And balking at medicinals and talking about another way,
About seeing the light of day! Your imagination, dear, now here
This’ll cheer you up, then you’ll be fine and ready to dine
With the others ~ all sisters and brothers, eh ~ and they all have
On their very best vest, too, just like you! Ah, now, that’s better;
Just one stick, one little pin-prick and no more being homesick
Like an uneducated hick… There now, all better, and you’ll sleep
In the keep of this nice, little room and without e’en a peep…
Don’t think or blink or wink … just sleep … just sleep
Just sleep…

 

Note: No, I am not in an insane asylum or psychiatric ward, although after reading this you may think I need to be locked up! LOL  Point in fact, this was all inspired by my own ruminations of living in an overly-medicated society. (Agree or disagree on this point; it’s quite alright with me.) Otherwise, I’m doing quite well.  

In My Multi-Emotive Vest

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To vault the mountain of my emotions is difficult
As they madly swirl sometimes like a typhoon
Threatening to sweep me away and turn my day
Into some morbid burial of the psyche
Or like an avalanche descending too quickly
For me to escape and I’m swept down into dark valley,
Stark raving mad where I’d once had sanity,
But vanity will not allow me to open up my heart
And share with anyone the part that hurts so much,
Even hurts to touch, it’s such an excruciatingly
Deep wound, or more than one, and it’s hidden inside
Where no sun shines, and so I’m underground
In my own soul with only the sound of my own cries
As I say goodbye till the tears stop flowing
And new wind starts blowing, showing me some way
To begin a new day even in the middle of the night
In the middle of my plight, despite the blight
Of my soul with hole to large to fill,
But there is a certain thrill to it all, especially
In the knowledge that I’m alive and so I thrive
On these tumultuous emotions, these feelings unbounded,
Though hounded by sad-gladness like some ugly dæmon,
And trusting-paranoia and adventurous-fear
And happy tears and jolly-melancholy and all the rest,
And so I know I’m at my best in multi-emotive vest,
Though I can’t enjoy all of the world
While locked inside these four walls…

Note: This is,  I believe,  my third stream of consciousness poem

Justice

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In a moment of exhilaration I climbed to my position of exaltation,
Scepter in hand, crown on head to execute judgment so very astute;
Like Solomon of ancient lore I would settle the score tween the two
At war from upon my throne seated so high, alone in finest regalia,
And instantly I knew the crone was guilty as the fair lady moaned;
Emerald eyes pierced my heart and stole the better part of reason,
While the old one with leather face, calloused hands shook to stand;
My mind clouded by sweet smile to beguile even the wisest assured
Of victory o’er innocence, villainous intention hidden by pretension
Of humility that heightened my gullibility and mocked my nobility;
And would I try and convict the real innocent though every indicant
Screamed out for the old crone with weary bones, she was not guilty;
Would this prince play party to wicked beauty to execute the duty
Of slave like some whimpered knave?
Or could I rise above pretended love?

Justice

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