WEALTH.....Revision #2

Wealth

 

My spirit notices the obvious

during my seasons quiet neglect

It bathes often in thoughts curious

that easily and silently intersect

with the kingdom of my mental wilderness

Land of tangled twisted branches

that spread out like sunbeams distressed

illuminating daily opportunities that enhance

moments cherished in loves harvest

 

Sometimes I peek into societies windows

and notice untouchable wealth

my unjustified anger rings hollow

as I accept what life has dealt

I welcome the free beauty of river near

Relish the wind on fields of grass

Absorb the geometry of nearby stairs

that create linear art in shadows cast

 

The chant of passionate birds

coming from nearby woods tangled green

resonate with songs gratefully heard

 streaming through summer leaves

The sight of open fields

littered with sun-dried hay

floods the senses and feed

my spirit with smells that stay

as colorful mind scenery

painted beneath cerulean skies

that bathe my soul in the reality

of the gifted landscape in my sight

 

My wealth resides in natures charm

and at the end of the day

I live and resolve to do no harm

to the blue marble that makes possible my stay

 

 

 

 



Pivot Point....

Pivot Point

 

There is a place in the heart

where American reality starts

A point reached, a quiet place

where the Nation ceases to ache

 

Lift the veil where tomorrow hides

glimpse at where destiny resides

see where politics stamps its imprint

that remains as blackened footprints

 

America is not meant

to exist in light absent

shaded by terror looming in the shadows

Americas courageous citizens know

that their Nation belongs on the blue speck

that moves in orbital darkness

and with simmering conviction

like a boiling kettle of oblivion

realize full well

that their leadership smells

 

Americas collective mind is cupped

by invisible hands corrupt

It is perceived in global visions

as a Nation full of bad decisions

While American essence retreats full well

wishing for an isolationist shell

We are perceived as a bad actor

a goliath hiding from danger

 

Sailing on turbulent seas

one of globally marked misery

we approach a pivot point

wrapped in Democracy dormant

A point we should not recant

A time hidden from the pious man

where the fate of a Nation dear

is harshly pummeled from year to year

 

WILL AMERICA RISE FROM THIS POINT

OR COLLAPSE LIKE A FORTRESS MADE OF SAND.....

 

 

Class Boundaries.....

Class Boundaries

 

Class lines are real and very fine

they result in conflict most times

they are like the sword of Damocles

ready to sever the tendons of Democracy

 

Class lines define values

that all of us freely choose

and in those tribal values conditioned

there exists the seeds of destruction

Class lines flourish in Leagues of Ivy

and cover the windows of reality

insulating those within

from a system filled with sins

 

The working class, it seems

is loosing faith in the American dream

workers feel the squeeze of class lines

and see their future in decline

Politics of race and class lines

will result in actions that define

the future of our Democracy

Whatever that may be

 

Then, class divides will stand in dust and weep

while Democracy lies buried deep

as revolution sounds the beat

that will be heard above class lines, of which I speak

 

 

J'accuse......

J'accuse

 

I blame patriotic winds for flags that wave

and scatter leaves on unmarked graves

I accuse golden sunshine bright

for enduring intolerable darkness at night

 

I blame politicians, I've learned to hate

for dictating the course of human fate

I accuse their hardened hearts

of tearing Nations apart

 

I blame the bitter taste of death

and rampant veteran neglect

on our shameful materialistic society

that spans from sea to sea

 

I blame the needlessly wealthy

for believing that freedom is free

I accuse them of lacking respect

in their words that they will regret

 

I blame the purveyors of indifference

for their overwhelming nonsense

and I accuse global news followed

of being filled with substance hollow

 

I blame the bias of news casters

for feeding on global disasters

I accuse political corruption and nonsense

for imposing a National death sentence

 

Most of all, I blame the Creator

the all Mighty Originator

for giving humanity with all its ills

the curse of a free will

KISHDUNA REVISITED....

Kishduna Revisited

 

 

My minds eye perceived past Summers

of fun times in clear waters

and days that too quickly passed

on warm sands that sparkled like glass

 

The quiet shore of a silver lake

stirred memories now awake

of carefree moments under canopied shade

where shelter was found beneath foliage

 

The rustle of full blown leaves

iced summers warmth with ease

and absorbed youthful cries of joy

that radiated from girls and boys

 

The chatter of crashing waves

caused by wide boat wakes

infiltrated the subconscious

and fed my soul moments precious

 

Blossoming children filled my eyes

as joys of summer materialized

and the sweet taste of Kishduna descended

on all of us who attended

 

How wonderful that all came to stay

for a week of Kishduna days.....

 

 

 

 



REFUGEE....Revision #2

Refugee

 

There existed a world beyond

but they could not reach it, they found

They could clearly see it

but could not live in it

 

White buildings on the horizon

rose like a beacon urging them on

pastel homes sheltered from sight

shimmered in the morning light

 

 Dark clouds covered their existence

cloaked in a starvation death sentence

as war altered their life's routine

and days became a horrific dream

 

Innocent children entering a world torn

on this road of life were sadly born

and as night time approached on fields of canvas

empty bellies cursed sleep and hopelessness

only to await the morning heat

blown in by the new days' breeze

 

Children in their ragged beds with sleepy eyes

cried for breakfast that never materialized

as their pleas joined muffled sounds

heard from the nearby tents all around

 

In their less than adequate temporary homes

they survived on decreasing hopes

Pleading that humanity would somehow find

a way to restore their existence unkind

 

So, with my pen in hand

I try to understand

why humanity on this tiny planet

cannot merge together and love beget

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



SYNTHESIS.....revision #2

SYNTHESIS
 

When the Western gales did gently shout

and coaxed pansies into looking out

 crystal dew on blades of grass

changed colors as the sun rose fast
 

He stepped lightly, somewhat afraid

of walking on this purity heavenly displayed

his presence scattered the light in strange ways

while he searched for footprints of former days

He saw landmarks near the sea

that remained to claim history

times that were, carved into his mind

lurked in the core of historic finds
 

The fireflies of not too distant past

sang their song of light at last

with refrains of deep feelings

that resonated and pointed to many things
 

Things like, how he came to be

in a small village near the sea

and who he is today

and who he has become during his stay
 

He remembers the past

with nebulous memories still in his grasp

He sees invisible footprints in the sands

as the tides have erased things he understands
 

Like former times when the surf deep

attacked his tiny feet

and assaulted his newborn presence

with frothy waters salty substance
 

The surf challenged his purpose daily

beneath a sun shining brightly

and burned into his every moment

like a glowing fire meant to torment
 

The ever present blood rose

shading the sands while pleasing the nose

challenged the gentle touch of his hands

as he failed to appreciate or understand
 

The nearby saltwater that consistently diluted

his  presence until it was nearly obliterated
 and encouraged the wild stream of his life

That surely contributed to daily strife
 

His life poured out without comment

and blended itself into the vast ocean

His insignificant essence was willingly added

to the sea into which he was skillfully blended



REFLECTIONS...

Reflections

 

I dreamed of times that were

while inhaling salty vapor

I sat on oceans' sandy beach

with memories in easy reach

 

I questioned if time had passed

 my spirit flashed pictures in which I basked

colorful painted reality in mind

while solid structures I could not find

 

With the salty breeze as my sustenance

nourishing my past youthful substance

I sat and sailed my ship of mind

and with full spinnaker left the present behind

 

Again, I was the child playing

waves crashing on shore in early morning

cries of gulls filling the salty air

and youthful mind absorbing pleasures without a care

 

With the wealth of health

and the soft ocean breeze felt

I splashed in tidal pools

that remained ever cool

and captained my sleek schooner

under the sun of youths Summer

 

Time now has devoured those seasons past

leaving behind a meager repass

filled with joyful times of long ago

that my aging spirit still craves ever so

 

 

POTUS....

POTUS

 

When the grand Canyon became a ditch

grandeur became lacking in National eyes

it was downgraded by discordant lips

looked down upon beneath American skies

The gradual erosion of truths

that should have been self-evident

became a raging cry unmuted

The message was loudly sent

in the disintegration of values

like the pursuit of life

abused by the actions of a few

It shattered the awe of our Canyons great style

 

A page in American history

was recorded as a dark National play

that became what it had to be

with no one realizing how it got that way

 

America turned into a discordant country

confused by the mirrored games

played in political parlors endlessly

POTUS lost his grandeur in the haze

and the spreading fog of inequity

 shaded a system slowly failing

to deliver promised prosperity

to a Nation seeking healing

NIGHT TRAIN...

Night Train

 

Steel ribbons twist along the rushing stream

they guide the rail cars in their darkness

black velvet on glass is seen

as ghostly reflections of nothingness

 

A lone passenger rides silently

pale figure embedded on ebony glass

he glances outside occasionally

he strains to see landscape rushing past

 

Blackness swallows his sight

only to regurgitate it just as fast

he longs to see any light

as desolation rolls by with a clickety -clack

 

Beyond the silver stream so near

he sees a train of thought full of gaps

he feels the injustice of loneliness reappear

while listening to wheels of steel tippety-tap

 

Points of light appear on depths of glass

he stares at unfocused ceiling lights

that ride along in the carriage first class

they flicker in the pale moonlight

 

Scattered beams of twinkling stars

reach the eye as darkness fails to hamper

and childhood wishes to travel far

enter the travelers mind and fully wander

 

He hears the song of steel

ring out on the path taken

he searches his soul and feels

sorrow for those in granite gardens

 

The night train rolls along

much like the joyful wedding

of two worlds, the weak and the strong

that suck the light from most everything

 

His fears seem to blossom nevertheless

much like a cerebral wound

that festers unseen in total darkness

and wants to consume him too soon

 

He can still accept the world

he wants to be the apostle of love

and reject rumors he heard

that retribution is coming from above

 

He understands the loneliness of travelling

as life's landscape sweep swiftly bye

his visions in the night reveal nothing

of the approaching light that will illuminate his sky

 

REVELATIONS....

Revelations

 

Love is obsolete and boring

when we aspire to lesser things

Youth in ignorant impulses spent

squander passions in quick moments

with desires drenched in cheap red wine

that become no less Divine

Feelings that reside on ruby lips

between intoxicating sips

are breathless in anticipation

of loves magical consummation

 

Passionate words softly spoken

fill the ears with sweet heaven

and fiery reflections in lovers eyes

illuminate their entranced skies

Then, reality slowly returns

sensations sweet in memory burned

soothe the mind in restful delight

that envelops love in the cloak of night

 

 

A Moment....

A MOMENT

 

July sunshine bathes the roof red

my imagination sees drips  falling from the eaves

sunshine droplets falling like lead

never reaching the ground with ease

 

'Tis natural magic seldom seen

To notice golden streaming sun falls

merging in invisible streams

and to imagine invisible energy at all

 

Early childhood dreams of reality

take shape in morning smells

while golden rays drip silently

bathing small fingers, warming them well

 

Youthful awareness swift as light

completely embodies the majesty

that provides sunshine bright

and colors the sky blue easily

 

With childhood eyes sensitive

'Tis easy to notice nature

and create sunny narrative

that soothes the souls of sentient creatures

 

 

POETRY....

Poetry

 

Poetry is like a child

It wants your energy/ craves your intelligence

seeks your spirit/ takes up your time

only to leave you exhausted but satisfied

BREXIT...

Brexit

 

With some determination Nations persist

and with various customs do exist

but now as England's sun fades

its Royal colors pale in the shade

It hides from the glorious sunshine

that permitted Britain to feel fine

The multicolored Union

too soon rejected by dissention

tearing down monuments of the past

and leaving them scattered in the national grass

The cheerful breeze of prosperity

stilled as the engine dies in infamy

as her frail beauty

remains on time worn tapestry

It separates from the lofty kind

with no regret leaving them behind

victim of National rage

as the common people feel truly engaged

and seek power full blown

to safeguard the British throne



Reality.....

Reality

 

Reality, I sought you when

on the verge of lost innocence

I wandered  searching for a song

to sing in paradise alone

I listened to the whispering wind

that caressed me in my early Spring

and with mind immortal locked in flesh

I crafted reality barely blessed

captured sight of graceful waves

their beauty manipulating my gaze

in sunshine bright during noontime warmth

each moment awaiting the coming storm

 

While high on remote hills

birds and reality stood still

making noisy appellations beneath the sun

like a refrain suddenly and effortlessly sung

gracing the ears in waves of melody

flowing and ebbing like the surging sea

The eyes of reality flashed brightly

her lips absorbed the waning day

the breath of life she eagerly inhaled

and rendered my existence ghostly pale

I wish I had not seen

her jaded smile so serene

 



THE WALL.....

The Wall

 

Covered in grace and afternoon light

the wall purveyed an aura darkly bright

that cauterized my heart

keeping it from coming apart

 

I saw the travelling wall

It wasn't that tall

My sight chased engraved names painfully long

Fifty eight thousand, three hundred seven strong

 

Names of lives too early lost

reminding me of the bloody cost

and the wasted expense of National treasure

for nebulous political posture

 

Lives that were sacrificed much too soon

leaving scars in never felt wounds

inside young minds wasted in steamy jungles

during operations pathetically bungled

 

American youth lost their innocence

and survived on common sense

When they returned, they were shunned

and spat upon all in a days fun

la Drangs' Bloody banquet....1965

la Drangs' bloody Banquet 1965

 

'Twas in la Drang valley that young lives ended

during deaths' banquet fully attended

valiantly they fought for ideals defended

The least we can do is remember them

 

When they that answered the call

roamed jungle valleys of palm trees tall

saw floating daylight that night

and noticed looming shadows in the dim light

 

They locked, loaded and prepped for the fight

Starlight scopes making the jungle green bright

spotted flashes from nearby shadowy palms

spitting seeds of death from enemy arms

 perimeter claymores shredded moving shadows

sending body parts flying in the surreal green glow

 

NVA regulars were honored guests at the banquet

'Twas a horrific scene to never forget

as death loomed like a centerpiece of blood roses

with history being written in chaotic prose

 

Lethal buzzing metal flew unseen

and found their mark accompanied by anguished screams

Chaos persisted during the humid night

mixed with the smell of death and acrid cordite

bloody trails of sticky crimson wet

made by the crawling wounded near death

marked the foreign dirt never theirs

dirt that absorbed their bitter tears

 

Deaths' bloody feast in the morning light

revealed the price of idealistic projection of might

as deeds of valor in a senseless war

were counted by the score

and during the eternity of that banquet grotesque

those who remained alive were forever scarred valiant guests

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Truth and Reality....Revision #2

Truth and Reality

 

When truth in bright design

exists in a pure reasoning mind

and comes forth in the course of life

it brings pleasure to the average daylight

 

Sometimes, truth is twisted and destroyed

bending personal perceptions of reality spoiled

and is captured in impressions foul

that scar the minds feeble shroud

 

Reality becomes a truth to accept later

while living a dreamless endeavor

and quietly savoring sensory overloads in life

that embellish reality as it arrives

 

We must live the reality of Summer vigor

Find truth in golden Autumn bowers

Accept the reality of frosty Winters

and bask in the truth of sudden Spring showers

 

Universal truth accepted brightly stays

fixed in minds cerebral reality always

while these concepts in our minds persist

the reality of truth is really what we cherish

Dream Weaver......

Dream Weaver

 

She stood by the quiet riverside

absorbing colors that scored the sky

Then, within the scented isles of pine

strolled naked and felt so fine

 

She longed for the dream weaver

full of youthful blind desire

She heard silent words forming visions

that congealed into foggy satisfaction

beneath branches that hung overhead

and reflected in river water illuminated

 

With silent affirmation in dreams of existence

she consumed life's glorious essence

The maker of blissful dreams

satiated her spirit with midday screams

that forced time to stand fast

and add color to life at last

 

She sampled the joy at all hours

strolling among the blossoms of lovely flowers

and fulfilled much needed desires

by mindfully creating the dream weaver

 

Rejuvenescence...formally ( springtime stroll ) revision #3

Rejuvenescence

Sunshine drips from the heavens

 basting new buds now partly open

Warm tenderness wraps sleeping branches

in a blanket that promises

the assured emergence of greenery

as the lovely woods call to me

Floating mist rises in hazy torrents

 that skims dark river currents

it cloaks brown maple bark

and permeates my cotton sark

on my morning stroll of rivers shore

 my soul could ask for nothing more

Flickering shadows grow ever short

 and a golden glow is my escort

I'm surrounded by smells brand new

as my consciousness absorbs morning dew

that glistens on lilac buds

and flash a colorful purple flood

Spring fills my eyes with simple sights

like the joy of wild basil purple bright
 casually I stroll the woods

while my spirit yearns to be understood

The spring breeze meanders

between buds and blooming flowers

It nudges the toiling bumblebee

that's mostly invisible to humanity

and with serenity on the rivers' bank

my thoughts give nature a hardy thanks