Listen to the Lion

Unlike a pack of wolves…
a long hard winter behind them
they hunt for any free scrap
taking from wherever they can
for they know not of ownership.

Like the bear and the monkey
taught to take handouts
feeding on the poison offered
they have forgotten how to feed themselves
forgotten… the ways of hunting and cooperation
their world out of balance.

Now lazy and lackadaisical
they eke out an existence
bare minimums met, the
smell of impending death
permeates their dens, leaking out
into the surrounding air
telling all others of their plight…

There is nothing left…
all has been taken and consumed
yet knowing offspring have no chance
litters are dropped at increasing rates
and the lion lauds the animal-welfare state.




Up-Comings Due and Payable

Sitting at the desk
his mind somewhat dazed
as he finishes his breakfast
trying to remember this day’s agenda.
He can hear people outside…
the excitement growing
as entrepreneurs make a steady dollar
and the call for cold beer resounds.
His mind somewhat dazed
he cannot remember the occasion
but he fills with a false pride
as he recalls all the things he has done.

Organizing those who believed the lies
marring the enemy with twisted tales
dismantling institutions of long ago;
replacing them with a free-reign circus
creating animosity where it had calmed
pitting his victims against each other
while he and his cronies made money;
payments from the oppressed as he
promised… change…
they were too predisposed to realize
they were living his brand of change.

His thoughts rudely disrupted…
with a swat on his arm
an invitation to follow;
he is told the crowds await his arrival.
He remembers all the times
he was cheered and bowed to
standing ovations fit for a king
revered and protected by so many.
He enters his arena and revels in the cheers
used to being escorted, he follows
and, in usual fashion jogs up the stairs
waving to all as the cheers grow louder.

In his stupor, he sees an award of some sort
a man hanging the monstrosity around his neck
he is asked to speak and does not disappoint
emboldened by the crowd’s reaction, he continues
so smitten with himself he does not see
cheers of old have been replaced with jeers of new.
Clarity grabs him, shaking him from his daze
the last words he hears searing like red-hot pokers
pushed through his ears…
“may God have mercy on his soul”.

He remembers today, and time slows…
he feels the floor open below him
his weight forcing him down
bound like an animal he cannot move.
All misdeeds revisit and understanding comes
he is disgusted with his life, but is left with
no chance to apologize, to make right his wrongs
he begs for forgiveness from the one he rejected
for he knows no virgins await him.
As the rope tightens and he feels the crack
his last vision… looking down to see
the devil awaiting him with outstretched arms…
His debt…
to be repaid through eternity.

It Isn’t Rock ‘n Roll, But We Like It

Parasites have taken root
like the mistletoe, attaching themselves
uninvited, spreading ever so slowly
living off the life blood
finally condemning their host to death.

Birds innocuously spreading the parasites
no one sees the treachery
instead, reveling in the mistletoe’s beauty
it is absorbed into our culture
for we are blinded by pretty things.

We listen to the spreaders of parasites
the songs they sing sweet to the ear
ambiguous, their songs we do not understand
yet we welcome them into our lives
for their songs make us feel good.

And the politicians gather
singing their songs in unison
the orchestrated show unfolding,
the maestro’s baton mesmerizing us…
the Piper has won.

As we watch promises morph
becoming things unrecognizable
our concerns become side-tracked
with new songs of promise…
but the music is so beautiful.

I Bid You Farewell

Internal functions failing
I feel ill unable to fix the damage
it has been so long, I feel as though
my very essence is disintegrating.

Infections waging war with each other
wreaking havoc on those parts of me
left hanging on for their very survival
I know I have little time left
not being fully consumed yet,
and unable to stop the process.

All parts making up the whole
have turned on each other
each one grabbing whatever it can
taking away from the rest
unwilling to see the consequences…
nothing left for the whole
the whole is vanquished
and the individual parts
scramble to grab
whatever scraps of sustenance are left to be found
before they must reap what they have sewn.

It was a wonderful existence…
at least until the early 1900’s
when the first viruses were injected
into my blood stream;
a slow and often invisible process taking place
ravaged beyond repair
I will take my place in history…
an experiment gone awry;
a country lost
as history once again repeats itself.

Will they ever learn?



I look deep into my mind’s eye
a cauldron of all things past
a cauldron of all things to come
and a shiver runs down my spine.
The game never changes
only the players differ
and the outcome is always the same.
The keystones that have supported
all we hold dear being removed
one stone at a time…
and our foundation is ready to falter;
such a monument to what has been
and what could continue to be for
all who are willing to be a part;
only the self-chosen cannot
stand to have less than all
and will destroy all they cannot have.

What will people a thousand years from now
think of us; who had everything,
yet didn’t have enough, leaving only remnants
as pieces to the puzzle, and the question
is always the same…


The Trap

I asked my mother why we had nothing…
was this to be my life?
She scowled; then smiling
she picked up her cell phone
eyes glazed over, I disappeared from her view.
I watched
as mechanically she dialed the phone
placing an order from her pharmacist
then praising the man who
gave her twenty minutes… by phone.

My future played out before me…
I would follow in my mother’s footsteps…
there was nothing there.
Her fix came… I grabbed it and
inhaled it all. My eyes glazed over
and my family disappeared from my view.

As I looked down, an instant replay unfolded…
my former body lying on the floor
TV blaring daytime buffoonery… shaping…
I watched…
she scowled; then smiling
she picked up her cell phone
eyes glazed over, I disappeared from her view.
Mechanically she dialed the phone
placing an order from her pharmacist
then praised the man who
gave her twenty minutes… by phone.

The End Result is Always the Same

NaPoWriMo Day 15

Three separate but connected Pantuns:

I watch the fish attack the fly
With luck the fly will catch the fish
Sleep comes swiftly when comfort comes
Tomorrow the game starts anew.

Windage, distance and elevation known
Lead is sent on missions of mercy
Many drink and dance to celebrate
An end to something for all involved.

Spring is the time of planting seed
And so the planter reaps his sow
Winter can be hard and unforgiving
When those at risk just want to play.