Politics

I hear a knock

from the cellar

and call on Ego

to answer the door:

“Money for the poor?”

a young man ponders,

“What am I doing here?”

and the door is shut,

hands still warm.

 

I can handle

up to six hundred dollars

at a time,

enough for rent,

some shoes,

wine if I have the time

but where will my children

find a place to eat

under piles of sand and coal,

will Ego have their backs as well

to protect them

from further turmoil?

 

Will our children

sit separate

from the meal or the plate,

voters at stake,

presidents too late

with their old boxes

and used rhymes,

’cause no one should lie

when they’ve got no time

to solve old Blackbeard’s problems–

go turn them on themselves,

though, and they’d all go runnin.

 

Perhaps off to Ego,

now waiting at the door–

always on watch

as a good man should

he was told, “Boys will be boys,”

and he said, “Shuck yeah,

that’s fine,” so he smoked up

slow and stared on.

 

November 25, 2015

Be Still

It’s been a while

since the clock struck twelve

and all the world

was quiet–

all the past forgiven,

no sirens a-screamin,

just belief

in the silence,

in the tears.

 

The sky has cried

and so have I

to release

all this strange human guilt,

for puddles aside,

we can read all the lies:

the treasure is at the end

of the death row:

 

Death of The Other,

Death of The End,

Death of It’ll Never Happen Again,

a feeling of peace,

a meaning in light,

where all can let go

and be still.

 

October 19, 2015

Washing Off Fear

Things that scare me:

too much movement,

not enough time,

students failing classes,

children falling in line

to a code of conduct

the state tends to copy

from one generation to the next–

why can’t they provide

bandaids instead

for the multitude of broken hearts

and wings clipped off

before they got to fly,

my skin burning and telling me

that inside isn’t safe

and yet the outside won’t stop spinning

I need to jump off,

but where?

I,

we

 must sink in, ankle deep

into a beautiful, mud lined shore

reminding us that a sticky situation

is never incurable–

all we must do

is wash our hands in the tide,

watch water flow

and wait for our souls to follow.

May 2, 2015

Happy (early) Birthday to my little brother, who is going to be a teenager tomorrow! 😮