The Cycle

A fog
thick… billowing… engulfing a nation
hiding from many that which is
teasing swirls of uncertainty beckon
unclear in shape and content
only to disappear back into the grey
leaving the child within them to interpret
that which was not there

Puffs of incoherence coalesced
a new abstract born of vapor…
there one instant and gone the next
bowing to a breeze, or
destroyed by the light of day exposing
that born in the dark…
that born from vapor returns to vapor
to engulf those who cannot see
through the fog they create


They Call This Life

cloud clear thought
better days remembered as
today weighs heavily on our backs

Simplicity gone
common sense erased
as nothing new makes sense
we lie at the bottom
of the hill of muck
unable to make progress
the few determined pulled back
for no one wants to wallow
in the pigsty alone

The new philosophy…
let the few keep the many down
that they have all
and the rest have nothing
to squabble over.

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…


It’s Your Party

You didn’t see, and hadn’t for a long time
which made comprehension a difficult thing
and you did not know why you found that
eye to eye everything was blurry; and hoped
the laser would do its work.

The cornea reshaped, sight was improved…
tired of arguments over your view of life
you had longed to see the same things as others
with clarity; but found as you looked over the same
with friends and family, still you did not see eye to eye;
and found everything still to be… as clear as mud like
looking out life’s window as thousands of droplets
of water ran down confounding the picture…
although right in front of you, you could not see.

Only when it had become too late; the damage done
did you comprehended the consequences of your actions
and saw what others had seen all along; did you wish
to hide the fact that your mind contorted your view
like a thousand droplets of water running down…
you could always see, but chose not to…
your desire to fix all that you perceived to be wrong
conflicted with rational thought… your mind confounded
by your droplets of irrationality clouding vision…
is it any wonder you never saw eye to eye?