Tag: Politics

Toward Understanding and Harmony: One Way Forward

While looking back on previously published poetry for inclusion in (possibly) another printed collection, I ran across this one that seems appropriate, not only at the beginning of this New Year, but also for the current political climate here in the U. S.! (Who knows? Perhaps POTUS will read it and be transformed into something of a real human being! LOL) Ah, but here it is, from back in August of 2015:

So often it’s so easy to misunderstand and reprimand
When there’s really no reason for words out of season;
We assume and fume and leave no room for the benefit
Of doubt; never consider we may be wrong, agony prolong
So unnecessarily because we’ve failed to give charity
And beckon clarity for sake of peace instead of caprice
In broken harmony as we release anger and animosity
From paucity of heart; we can be so small when we should
Stand tall in character and integrity with better dignity;
And so much strife would fade in play of fife and flute
Of happier days and higher ways, in serenity and amenity;
Would not this be better than bitter rancor and soul canker?
Perhaps we begin with open ears to hear and eyes to see
In the other our true sister, brother, father, and mother
Rather than unsuspecting foe ready to deal death blow…
Oh, how suspicious we can be when we’re not free
To live and love without attrition of suspicion of ill-will!

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There is a Storm Rising

There is a storm rising in the deep cauldron of the sea of humanity,
An untamed insanity, wailing louder and louder, like the wild child
Emerging from the jungle of irrationality to destroy all of banality,
To cannibalize civilization in the realization that it is but a carcass
Only to be eaten now in a free frenzied feast of half-starved beasts;
Woe be to the man of upper-clan, who but fans the flames of blame!
The storm rise is upon us, the size of which we cannot measure . . .
But there will be no pleasure, only pieces of what we now treasure

Perspective

From which side are you looking at the mountain?
Are you drinking water from a different fountain?
Because you and I do not quite see eye to eye,
But we both cry that we’re right (in our own sight)
And this causes quite a plight that might lead us
To fisticuffs if we persist in insisting on our way
Day after day, chiefly when there’s no diplomacy
As we boastfully continue raving to hopefully win
An argument not even worth the victory,
Which is contradictory to our deeply felt feelings,
Especially as we’re reeling from the latest punch!
Might it be possible for us to change perspective?
Just for one moment, irrespective of our feelings?
Might it be possible for us to see a different point
Of view in lieu of our own, to see the other side
Of the mountain? To drink of the other fountain?
Then we might find out it was all a matter of . . .
Perspective

Your Cozy Little Eggshell

Not that I’m angry but you never seem to see
What is as obvious to me as a great big tree!
Temperatures are rising causing tidal waves
As oceans misbehave while you calmly claim
That it’s all the same without a bit of shame;
And you don’t seem to hear the cries of fear
From around the earth in all your jolly mirth,
And I ask you why ‘n try to talk but you balk;
Meanwhile masses starve and ruffians carve
Their weapons of terror ‘n it’s a bloody error
To be so blind and to bind your whole mind
Against all the world around you,
But you’re bound and determined
To be whatever it is you will to be
And see only what you want to see!
No, I’m not angry, only bound to be astounded
How you can live in such a cozy, little eggshell!
And I know hell will crack that shell one day . . .
Hell will crack your shell

No Romero, Not Here! Not Here!

Dearest Romero, you cannot come here out of fear;
You see, we don’t know you and only a few want to;
You have made your pilgrimage at such a young age,
But all for not for we have bought this wall
As a clarion call that we’re surely not for all,
Even the weak and small like you, O Romero!
Say, can you see the torch held high up into the sky?
Fire once burned there to light the night sky
As a bright beacon of hope for those who cry;
But now we must say ‘good bye’ and just let you die,
For we have no place for your face ‘n no more grace;
O Romero, what are you thinking as you’re blinking?
Skies here are not blue for you,
And your skin is the wrong hue!
From sea to sea shall we be ever so discriminatory?
Dearest Romero, you cannot come here out of fear!
Not here, lad, not here . . . for we are filled with fear!

Note: Romero is both a Spanish and an Italian surname meaning: A person on a religious journey or pilgrimage . . . (also) an herb of rosemary symbolizing remembrance and fidelity.

If Hatred Is All That Unifies You

If hatred is all that unifies you, then you will always have to hate to be unified;
Is this the kind of unity you desire? Unity completely devoid of love and peace?
And what happens when the object of your hatred changes or simply vanishes?
If hatred is all that’s unified you, you’ll have to find something else to hate,
Or what is worse, someone else to hate with no room left for true compassion,
No room for understanding, for bridge-building, for reasonable compromise . . .
Is this kind of unity an healthy unity? Unity centered upon feelings of hostility?

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years upon years,
And now my life is filled with too many decades of time with too few left to me
To live in hatred and animosity, fear, paranoia, enmity, rancor and bitterness;
And this man is too old and tired to spend his precious time with those who do!
Even my ears grow weary of hearing the poison spewing out from such people!
Light, life ‘n love stand above all and are more than enough to take all my time,
So too there is truth ~ yes ~ but my choice is to stand upon truth in true peace.

Idiocracy

Some say that democracy is the best form of government,
And perhaps this form of governance should be the norm;
However, it can breed a storm from dorms to living rooms,
From kitchens to legislative halls that fall to self-interest;
And what happens, then, when government is truly an icon
Of the people governed, and becomes of cupboard of idiots?
When entertainers are pundits and tweets become so sweet
That they make daily news and kindle views from officials?
When pictures that should be trashed are brashly shown
In public buildings as art by the self-designated oh-so smart?
When unimportant issues call for tissue to wipe crying eyes?
When the rest of the world calls for the best, but the best
Are given a vest in lieu of the grave and are called to invest
In the circus as government becomes more like giant Argus?
What happens, I ask, when democracy becomes an idiocracy?
I say the Revolution is long over, and God Save the Queen!

Or . . .

kakistocracy

Hard Battle Won: Song of Victory

Rain washes away,
Cleanses the soul on this day,
Brings peace in its way

The battle was hard,
Making sad songs for the bard,
Our wounds we regard

Now is time for rest,
Finally peace in our nest,
Now for us the best

Another day, another battle in play,
But for now long songs of victory!

Note: Though this poem is personal and familial, it is also dedicated to the recent victory in the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) controversy. As Tanya Cliff just reported, “The Army Corps of Engineers has denied a permit for the current routing of the DAPL to cross Lake Oahe.  This is a major victory for Native American tribes…” Praise almighty God for this long-awaited good news!

Election 2016

Tweedledee or Tweedledum?
Does it matter? Pass the rum!
We’ve now made our choice
And the world hears our voice;
Either way we knew the next
Four years will bring us tears;
But really, who do we have to blame?
Shame on US for playing such a game!
All our elected leaders only feed off
Of ‘we the people,’ who really need
To better tend our country and mend
So many of our troubles ourselves
Rather than living in our bubbles!
But here we are now and we bow. . .
Tweedledee or Tweedledum?
Does it matter? Pass the rum!