love the moment

I was not always a fool There was a day – maybe more That I was a blue-eyed boy Who played in sandboxes More easily managed than the one That has now become a prison There were days when sunshine And moonbeams ruled the world in which I lived and all of that kingdom’s subjects Were happy and did not consider otherwise There were songs Whose words could only be sung in secret And it was enough that I sung them alone And rarely in the right key or meter There were moments in stories Read by wizards and witches Whose only mission Was to open the minds of the foolhardy And troubadours and poets I remember a day, a time When the moon had just risen And the sun was just beginning to set And the wind blew in a melody That no other soul had heard or sung Or even attempted to understand And for one brief second It all made sense It was enough And in that instant There was no hunger or worry or sorrow And then, the wind departed The sun set And the moon moved behind a cloud And did no...

The fluorescent beauty of the goldfinch Reminds me of an extravagance Measured by other means And the sweep of the second hand on my watch Reminds me that time is abundant When measured in the smallest of bits It is the measuring, then That tends to confound me As I find the mortal mind to be shifty And unreliable with such weighty matters What is the total – when summed By some ethereal accountant How can I calculate the balance Remaining in a heart broken Too many times for counting And what debts are owed and owing By me – and to me When there are few guarantees of payment Why would anyone but a fool keep a ledger The wind reminds me that it has never In the history of breathing, ever Even once measured or demanded payment For the relief it brings To the scorched faces and bodies Tested with too much sunlight The house finches sing and chatter excitedly At the feeder of seeds that are Magically replenished By a large being that They do not understand I should remember tha...

Sadness oozes now Seeping out from my pores Like slime from a dying snail It wells up unrequested Like bile or some putrid protestation There is nothing to be done There is no cure or prophylactic There is no medication That can heal or palliate The birds sing as if they were not caring The wind blows as if nothing else could have been done The sun shines and seems to move with no consternation The grass grows even though, it too, awaits the blade There’s nothing to do but await fate’s unfolding The Battle of the Somme Slaughtered millions And Pork Chop Hill was only purchased With human blood And victories won with the sweat and toil of others Costs you nothing when the waiter brings the bill And hatred demands a price that cannot be measured And lust wreaks havoc where peace had chosen once to live And love is the only balm worth using Nothing else can heal the loss of severed limbs And mercy, in the end, is what all of us are seeking For sorrow will not leave us For anyth...

Everything is conditional, now There is no embrace that Is not given without prior approval Everything is connected The number of quid pro quo clauses Are too numerous to be counted Why is it? That hearts cannot fly without a tether Nor can voices sing without a covering Only certain things can be spoken Only secret words with hidden meanings are acceptable No one speaks truth any longer Because No No Stop Will always be invalidated by the courts When the hearer has the muffled ears of the powerful And thoughts Thoughts can now be mined by Twitterbots Who drill into the soul in search of hydrocarbons Or Any other natural resource that can be plundered And children They cannot play any longer As if previous conditions even existed Before computerized consent And love Oh, the sweet nectar of summer Love has been forbidden Unless it conforms To the standards long-ago published By Underwriters Laboratories Unless your plug is standard Unless your voltage is permanently Consistent You do n...

Make America Great – Anything but this… We are all broken We live in the land of misfit toys We live in darkness, not always in caves But the light by which we live is dingy All our leaders are fools And if not fools, then devils they be Lies once whispered in secret are now Proclaimed as Gospel Truths of Making the Fallen Great Again Even the richest child eats porridge polluted With plastic beads and toxic dreams The waters are heavy and leaden And destroy the minds of the innocent Unknowing It is time for the Great Visitation We need Angels singing and Descending for another place less desolate We are no longer the Captains of our fate As that ship sailed so long ago as to be forgotten And now, only the myths of madmen – or something even worse Where can we run Where can we hide That we are not there To meet us Our sins cling to us Like wet satin And they eat away at us Demanding repentance The reckoning is coming Judgment Day is near What can we do to atone For 400...