Post Independence Day Twigs of Poetree :)
Inspiring, Biden’s Campaign Rises, Uplifts
While Rump continues to refuse to use the DPA to nationalize
the production and distribution of effective testing and PPEs,
which would save taxpayers 100’s of billions of dollars over-
spent on gouged prices, and 100’s of thousands of their lives,
he continues to preach his ‘corona schmorona’ policies at his
super-spreader of disease rallies, exterminating republicans.
They say, ‘time is longer than twine’, and ‘to err is human,
to forgive, divine’. It’s unforgiveable, n’er forgettable. Yet,
Joe’s persistent perseverance in reminding our nation who
“..we(e),..” are and can be, not just life, relation in motion,
being evoking art, and illimitable potential, indivisible as
life, growing communally, yet also citizens of a great Union.
Soul’s Solitude’s Song Sparked
As a lone tear drop’s story is seldom told,
so too, with one drop of ink, we’ve committed,
but, will we allow the next to fall,
our pen’s unending point to ever alight?
Write what our heart’s, mind’s,
and even tongue’s dare not say?
If we do we may find our pencil’s lead
alchemically altered into golden lines, poetry.
If we water those leaves with care
they may bear wondrous fruits, twigs of the poetree,
adding texture, breadth, depth to our perceptions,
setting our perspective, third eye’s sight free.
Sister, Brave, Fly Free
When a phoenix is on wing,
Their inner-child is the best pilot.
Whence burnt, arisen from ashes,
life’s relation in flight, evoking one is right.
Even if love’s lost for awhile, one doesn’t
needs be beguiled, heart’s fathomless,
As the life, light, shared with others
is a well whose fathom’s unknown.
Remember, one wouldn’t know joy
if it weren’t for sadness,
Nor sanity, if it weren’t
for madness.
Betwixt heaven and Earth,
There’s nothing other than love.
Lost And Found (II)
When being a rogue’s scholar,
and having fun, isn’t
all it’s cracked up to be,
as you’re cracking up, to be.
When a babbling brook,
a gurgling stream,
aren’t dreams, for they’re
coming from your mouth.
When the hardened road ahead,
certainly facing death, is a find.
He said, walk this way, talk this way,
let your shadow be behind.
When only by the draw’s luck,
foot falls in front of the other.
Greater the cross borne, surer the stride.
Alone, each footstep into unknown,
deepening, engulfing darkness’ whirlwind,
is well met by candlelight within.
When you can’t even lift your head,
as the Michelangelos roll by.
When that grace, unnoticed,
is written across the sky.
When you lend someone a hand,
your outstretched arm to uplift them
is strengthened by the divine.
I’ll always continue to try, for,
there’s no burden you didn’t bear,
therefore any…, will be mine.
So Adorned
` Make-shift morgue, constant
` crowd, witness, bodies put in,
` mourn, the republic
An Eye For An Eye Allows The Whole World To See
Death penalty stops
murders, gives structure, can’t use,
it’s classist, racist.
anarchy, chaos, totalitarianism, notseeism, the show that must, goes on
Ebony and ivory working together in perfect harmony
have flooded the multi-media conspiracy, so the new
high in mass-murder of lower-middle-class to poor,
humanity, will be segued into normalcy by the bi-polar
axi of global supposed power, totalitarian and not-see,
without anyone noticing that the new rate surpassed
their class warfare’s old liquidation of ases and assets
of the masses en masse’s climate crisis dictated increased
rate of blitzkreiging Gaia’s kids to their extinction.
This service provided by East for West, Black supremacy
for white, supposed Left for right, is to cement their payment
of the subjugation of non-repub caucasians to the convolution,
la machine, to dictate there be no evolution and the jumping off
of the as’ back onto the elephant’s without their toes touching
the ground be invisible, so no one can figure out that they’re all
repubs. Now it seems too late, their ‘use’ of pandemic to subjugate
the world to survival instead of alival, exigency instead of humanity,
global oligarchy instead of democracy, has closed eyes, minds, doors,
pulled the rug out, dictating the Winter of our extermination to come.
Illumine (II)
Torrid sunshower just letting up, we walk into gallery spin,
no place for my modesty, you soothe the edges, as does your brush
Fire in the sky,
life and your art, abundant,
entering my eye,
Orga Vs. Mecha, The Replicants’ War, On Elbereth!
The last war humanity would fight,
to la machine’s delight, all came down to this.
It’s avatar, a replication of all it’s stolen from each
soul it sucked to death, a conglomerate, the beast,
a mess of criminal insanity, chaos, fake anarchy,
devised to only murder by the unpowers that unbe,
found the caverned lair of light, of reality, the latest
evolutionary leader, and descended upon him.
As the last of the Earthlings summoned Gaia’s forces,
fairies, with all her element’s powers, were put forth.
The battle nearly lost, he gave his last and broke
the convolution’s spell of protection cast
as the evil one’s armament, no time to lose,
he dispelled all it’s delusional constructs,
delusions and dissipated the last of it’s illusional self,
it was no more, there would be an end to all war.
La Machine Won Humanity’s Last War
With itself, for the robots
that science’s spin spun
out of our post ‘singularity’ world
hurled all life into hiding.
It was death risen, when they rose.
Leaving no man, woman or child,
nor large animal alive,
they left Gaia a morbid husk.
Scorched Earth from dawn to twilight.
Yet, their dusk was written thus,
as the extermination of life’s
rapacious pace made them falter
on parts replaced, eventually
they lost their ability to replicate
themselves and were no more.
Except hollowed out reminders of them,
standing in stark contrast to the ugliness
of their destruction, sculptures of art,
convenient perches for sieges of heron
to digest their plentiful carrion,
without a care, providing only
bird’s eyes with this view, anew.
Barely had my eyes closed,
it was as if Earth arose,
resplendence was she,
sundressed in incandescence,
gliding, all living, in cadence,
slowly, shimmering by my third eye,
affixed to see, wondrous luminosity,
opened impossibly more with
a turn of her head,
eyes gleaming, “know,
for, the hour is late, all life
is at the gate to it’s end,
and there are but a few friends”.
Again, with imperceptible stride,
Whilst Earth’s sentient flocking, abide,
an awakening, the radiance moved on.
Rising amidst my room aglow,
the vivid dreamscape’s gleanings to know,
I drew a glimmer of the magnificence,
and put my pen’s unending point to leaf,
mindful of a siren’s distant calling,
evanesces of knowledge, a way to walk,
and a foreboding, “do not of this speak”.
Thus, a twig of poetree was wrote then,
I’ve no access to now,
this one will have to do,
’til who knows when or how.
A Weaver Of Life
Happy 92 nd Birthday
to a student of Christ’s and Gandhi’s,
one who had a dream that someday
we’d live in the promised land
and took us by the hand.
Yet, we won’t get there
if you don’t break your chains,
refusing to be pawns in their games.
We can’t turn our back to those
un-chosen, on the outside or in…,
simply ’cause they can’t afford.
We can bring them with us if we
resisting, everyday, their common
delusions, not be a link in that chain.
The chains that keep our humanity’s
growth arrested, our potentials
unexplored, our thoughts,
feelings and deeds flawed.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. broke his
and many others chains. If you don’t
refuse, to place gold chains upon you
and to be the chains that bind you,
“…we(e),…”’ll never break the chain.
The chain that murders,
the chain of delusions,
the chain of death.
Aaarrrgh (‘Only the Super-Rich Can Save Us!’???)
A long night’s journey into day, without,
doesn’t bring about awakening all around.
As the RalphiNader’s cloistered political past’s
projections of a fix for yore, which left me aghast
the night before, I still abhor.
For, ya give a repub an inch,
they’ll continually demand seven more.
Pirate kitty knows, as she licks her paw,
there’s only one thing to do with vermin,
let ’em dance in your jaw.
Amadou
Your living was a gift.
Your life taken shows us
All how we’re not being.
Taking our own lives,
In effect, by not doing
All we can.
You may be dead, yet,
Still, you give us insight,
That we’re not fully alive.
May your memory be
A constant reminder of
What we lose when
We fail to be,
That being everything.
Cops asked an African man,
In N.Y.C., “show us I.D.”?
He reaches for his wallet,
Before he can even pull it out
His body’s riddled with 20 bullets,
The cops reload, shoot him with 20 more,
Making sure he couldn’t live to tell.
Three Acres of Forest Fall Every Second
~ Like acid rain from your closed eyes,
~ the Earth’s tears bleeding,
~ for all you see is gray.
~ Grey,
~ like the animal,
~ living up to 400 years,
~ usually beautiful like flowers,
~ housing 25% of it’s habitats
~ inhabitants, very vital to them,
~ from acidification, climate crisis,
~ sadly, destroying,
~ these ‘rainforests
~ of the oceans’,
~ coral reefs.