Tag: hypocrisy

If, When Again

if when

while we shop our ploys

need as we

want

suggest we have

find a further definition

if you ask me

I will suggest

glance across a simple blanket

a nature

a product of our

lacking involvement.

~

we might include

a moment,

some call it

a needed epiphany

long after we could

want to find some sacrifice

we call our own,

our discovery

when all along we were

already there –

bask in a superficial

atmosphere real-time

~

in case we forget

please ask again,

we might always find

a new opportunity

to sacrifice ego,

to understand we are

pervasive to a fault,

yet everywhere we

look there lies another

a sort of hidden gem,

a quiet memory,

a soft, sweet, celebration

~

waves. streams with piqued

sky and all around

our eyes will speak

to similar horizons.

we do want,

we always will

when even at our simplest

recollection, the world

continues to need,

we wish for those,

hope, salvation,

prayer.

People Killing People

(this is clearly just an example of venting without any regard to form or structure. Somehow I was tying Lennon’s death to the senseless shooting in Roanake, and intermingled recent controversy over Lennon’s past. Not quite sure where I was going yet.)

~

When I was a younger man, an impressionable lad,

I followed an icon, a singer named John,

he spoke of a need for peace, believed our only release,

meant song and love, his words cooed like a dove.

~

Now over thirty years later, we haven’t come any further,

last night two people again, with lives that’d just began,

snuffed out by another nut case, a mentally ill whacko in case

you haven’t figured it out, joined a legion of killer’s devout.

~

Over thirty years ago a man, slain by hands upon a gun

represented peace and love and forgiveness, his own demons newly address

a tormented life of abuse, he placed himself on the loose.

Yet demonized his attitude one time, canonized his life now sublime.

~

There are two stories being told in our daily lives, one first of our abused wives,

the second the hands of death by a bullet, in a world where exposed every minute,

we see the eyes of death in the hand, of the mentally ill with very little demand,

for scrutiny, or call of action, to stop the violence, to have a reaction.

~

Lennon, recently recalled as a wife beater, still in my eyes a leader,

smacked around yet later did acknowledge, his actions were no longer alleged.

He died at the hands of a shooter, by society’s terms, a mentally ill loser.

So when we pass judgment on our people, how do we define that towering steeple.

~

I suppose it doesn’t really matter as much to me that a visionary singer, was once abusive,

when across the country, a gun in the hands of a nut bag makes anything less permissive.

Seeking Truths

Walk with me this fine summer day,

Let me understand just what this way

of sharing ideals and complementing life

can do to end the plight of immoral strife.

We live in the land for freedom for everyone

yet look outside and see how many haven’t one

no singular feats to suggest an enterprise

may take their pain away, like a short-live prize.

We are world truly needs one another

to survive yet, even alone we will dive

if not together, then we begin a trail separate

that one we’d rather always differentiate.

One goal together as growing and living society

might be to outlast the ever present hypocrisy.

What are the truths we have designed our lives by,

why then do they still cause dreams and hopes to die.

People Speak

I wandered a million roads tonight,

each with their own agenda, still looking with the same

hope, love, need for survival, desire to know

just what might be ahead of this slow train of actuality.

A sea of humanity,

always at every turn,

miles away from my own comfort zone,

playing out life in a slow, independent fantasy,

sharing coffee, maybe lunch, buying tokens,

some try to look like one,

while others play the game of anonymity

hoping to just be passed by,

while still others have a constant need

for scrutiny that later they’ll complain is far too great

a burden that takes away their own meaning of

self-sacrifice.

~

People talk about this gaffe all the time,

sidewalk cafes with their best friends, companions,

at the end of the bar during cocktail hour,

perhaps in the intimacy of one another’s arms while love-making.

Each and every one of us speaks to the truth,

yet we always have this need to redefine what it truly means,

at that moment,

that particular pause, when our personal indictment

upon socially acceptable or solemn classic oddity

becomes the norm.

We are then faces that intermingle with one another

in our own hypocrisy.

Rather than feed the beast, quiet the growl,

engage and thrive within your own,

human race.

We Hold the Match

I feel responsible

in the quiet dark corner of my life,

I am the problem,

I carry the matches

to our powder keg we call America.

When I read about the color of your skin,

wonder about your safety,

wish you wouldn’t all be lumped together,

I seldom think about me,

never had to,

ever feel any responsibility beyond feeling lucky.

I am a lucky man,

with a lot of flints in my pockets,

ready to strike with my own personal naivety

Or, am I that clueless,

to imagine I cannot contribute to the melee,

the reality of our times,

in America.

The color of my skin,

offers me privilege,

haven’t had to think about it,

24/7.

I simply go forward,

yet, tonight, as I look at the constant protestations,

that disrupt the lives of our good citizenship,

no matter the color of any one or gathering group’s demeanor.

I am saddened tonight,

with the reality of my responsibility

I need to speak,

more often,

with more fervor,

more adamant,

with more unapologetic passion to suggest,

we are the individuals who need to begin to speak,

rather than rest on our own laurels,

believing we are doing right,

by sitting on our hands.

I cannot, no, will not, no, I simply must begin,

to rip my filtered head and eyes out of the sand.

I need to find the solution to extinguish the fires,

smoldering, in my apathy.

I need to recognize you before I can accept me.

I Am Sorry

Three words with such amazing strength

Seldom used

Often abused

We, I, we, me, I seem confused

Far be it for me to speak at length

~

About our, my ability to, ah, well you see

Grow up today

Figure out a way

Decide if I may

Stop tracing circles on the tracks of lunacy

~

A man once said to apologize is suggesting

Pale fiber

Weak rigor

Go figure

I would be asking today rather than begging

~

That brings the topic back to the moment

We do progress

When we finally fess

Oh, but I digress

How often in my life must I truly lament

~

The hardship of this world I depend on

The waiting

The avoiding

Oh so annoying

To be one with realizing I am put upon

~

By my own inability to deliver on time

That even hand

Without demand

Just simply planned

A life without apology might seem sublime

~

Yet here I am trying to figure out a moment awry

That has my conscience clearly saying I am sorry