Tag Archives: Poem

Fathers and Suns

You perform a rhapsody

Day in and out

Of love and pain and laughs and tears

And I fall for every prop

You look at me for all

As if I caused the sun to shine

Told the moon to rise and sparkle

Were it asked you’d say 

I was the one. The one.

Who dragged the moon to the sky 

Who put the sun to bed

Who rose at dawn to wake the world 

Shook it out of bed

I won’t abuse you of this thought

Or fail it while you carry

A necessary delusion that keeps us all merry

That makes me large enough to carry

The love and pride and fear  and worry

That you alone have brought

I warrant a giants space

A gods all knowing visage

With all the pride and love you give me

The illusion won’t stand forever 

Soon you will discern

That who you thought were mighty

Were little but concerned

And eager and bemused

Agobbed at what life wrought

As soon as you arrived we knew 

The gifts that weren’t yet bought

The truth that we disguise

Is evident to other eyes

To any looking at you and the grown ups who can’t catch up

While you labor in a lie

One we all must cling to

The truth, it’s you not I

That we all revolve and cling to

You are the sun and we the earth 

As much as we can figure

But if that’s wrong and you’re the earth

Than that should only figure 

Of all celestial bodies it’s the moon that we must be

As the sun that shines and alights us

Is all that we can see. 

Fallen

dismiss me I’m liberal
fault me for caring
about others and dreams
and nations and sparing
the lives of innocents
who fall below visions
of hawks and of monsters
and barkers of treason
you sling and slash
you shout of the demon
of fault that is falling
on those that don’t need it
you fire and fly
a flag of fallen heroes
but fail in your faith
never wanting for reasons to hate
alt white is leading
the nose of minor masses
to alt right leaders
contorting the language
to paint virtue of evil
and claim it is raining
the rain that is washing
their dominance away
not right not alt not white not all
but wanton and craven you hasten the fall
of fairness for looting
the souls of the groundlings
scraping and striving
learning and wheezing
your winning and failing
and pushing weighted ideas
that once fell to the flag
the long ago beat them
now spreads them and hides them
behind bars of blood
letting you rule but not fool
not even each other
spraying hate without heeding
those words you ain’t reading
that told of a notion
once dropped will no longer
unite us but bite us
by virtue of group think
shouts and screams and hollers for fealty
to nation not notion
defeating the meaning
of something we once knew
worth striving to perfect
now can’t even muster
the unity to protect

BOOTSTRAP ELEGY

Pay no mind 

to the gold flecked philosophies

to the high hat hypocrisies 

of their bootstrap elegy 

pronouncing vice as virtue 

spreading apathy to foster 

fields of mice who do their bidding. 

Nothing we see seems to be what it seems

when Enron robbed Ida and chortled and crumbled 

the mountain we found wasn’t even a fraction 

of the fraud that was lurking

virtuous kneeling in pews and on TV 

Elmo grooming the children to pray 

to the heavens for love and salvation

finding church in the arms and uncomplicated desires 

of evil men hiding in cloth and mire

protected by god who shuffled them off 

to others and others every time saying sorry

and moving on to new fields and new fosters 

where no means maybe and riches are granted 

the veil of proof that god favors the takers 

and pays poverty wages to victims of crimes 

that can only be hidden neath the feats and the fears 

of all gods children 

convinced the next scratcher brings heaven 

while mending and tending the needs of their handlers 

the virtuous lenders and miners of fortune 

held up like beacons held out like sirens 

but hidden and choked behind screens that strain them 

and keep them aloft for all to see and touch and everything but be. 

Each toiler now looking for that great scam

that will let them touch god who they claim has a plan

but what do they mean when kindness and love are held out as ideal 

and the scripture of fortune is fed by greed

and love is devalued to want and to weed

3AM

I’m sick of everyone 

and their crockpot recipes. 

I’m sick of their Midwest mockeries. 

I’m tired of the constant cacophony 

of pained but righteous melodies 

sung by sparrows feeling entitled to everything 

and assholes baring their baritones 

and all the others who can’t be alone. 

Who won’t atone. Who sling their wares 

through country roadsides and broader thoroughfares. 

All the noise feels redundant but looks resplendent. 

Feels remarkable. But sounds insolent. 

I’m tired of wanting and wishing and playing 

never missing a moment I’m convinced is so vital 

to find it arrives and passes with no residue, no lasting. 

I leave wanting not more, not less. 

All I ever want is next. 

This can’t be me. It can’t be what it seems. 

I’m filled and fly on wings of dreams 

but ever I know and ever I try there’s nothing left but next. 

Next year and sorrow. 

Next pity and wallow. 

Next thing to be earned next feeling to burn. 

Forgotten piles amount to a life well mined 

by others who don’t give mine the time 

or the mind.

How I Measure

It’s in how I tell my tales
All of it
All of me is there
If you are ever curious

I measure my sorrow in tears
I measure my joy with them as well
Joy is in the laughs
As is some pain

I measure my love in work
And in hugs and kisses
Love is in kind words
It’s even found buried in hard ones

My anger is measured by words unspoken
And by words hidden away until no one is looking
Uttered loud enough for only me to hear
Anger I find is ignored with great effort, risking great peril

My thoughts are fleeting and measured by the sentence
I fill my glass of thoughts that come slowly
Then I pour out my glass all at once
I clean it and put it away.

I enjoy accomplishments
But they don’t tell any tale beyond the obvious
Accomplishment can’t sustain joy
Accomplishment measures accomplishment and little more

Experience is it’s own reward and should be noted
It is not to be questioned or diminished
A trip around the world can contain less experience than an evening on a porch
Either can be where the meaning of existence resides

Meaning is something only I can hold
My meaning is of my making
It is suited to me and fits only as well as I can make it
It’s an effort I find worth pursuing

In the end it’s love
It is the only meaning I can summon
The only purpose I can surmise
It fills the craters, it gives them meaning

Love is the only currency that has intrinsic value
It is the only true meaning
It is my sole accomplishment
It is my greatest failing

I sometimes hold it to close
I forget to give it away
I seem to think I can care for it and make it grow without ever letting it go
I am wrong. It’s only the giving of love that ever makes it grow

No one can tell me that love is finite
Love is endlessly regenerating
It is life that I must remember is finite and will only end in death
So I must measure my life by how much love I leave in its wake