Lest We Forget, Again

cards_warisnothealthy_detail

For we do that,

oh so often, we do

decide upon a beautiful sunset,

perhaps the rising moon,

a sweet snowfall,

even the rain of a heated summer day,

lets our mind return to the numbing

nature of a human condition

built upon,

the product of denial.

 

But we cannot,

simply look alive people,

please don’t shut your eyes,

there’s a movement,

and this time,

it is your children,

let their voices be heard.

 

Imagine telling a child

you may not skip class to protest

the death of your peer

by senseless gunfire,

imagine telling your children,

I don’t love you enough

to give a crap

about your well being.

Imagine telling a child

when you leave

I’m not going to imagine

a terrible outcome.

 

If we demand our children

stick to the implementation

of a day of lessons

designed in minutia

and instead

forget the very reason,

we brought our child

into this world,

then we have suggested

the concept of love is a fallacy.

 

We are at war,

and the eyes of a child,

certainly contain the heroic passions

of our every tomorrow.

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When Will It Happen

When will the day become the reason,

when lives we seem to wonder a loud

become just a natural breeze in the fall.

 

Because we honor tales people create

they seem so simply easy to relate,

and yet, we do every turn complicate.

 

A long time ago, a person listened,

then told the story again, while others

began to recognize some purpose.

 

How many reminders will it take

until acceptance might become

some certain negotiate.

 

Standing outside the same moment,

there will always be a recall,

some symbolic gesture before the fall.

 

While everyone around us debates

a timely reckoning to decide,

the active reality will remain.

 

A long time ago, a certain history

began a repetitive tale of balance.

In the morning stories will continue.

What Rally Cry

Standing alone,

choosing alone,

no dial tone,

seems the last moments

will bend forever

the opportunity

to glance ahead,

beyond the scrutiny

deeply laid inside the victim’s head.

 

and then …

 

There is the question of whose hurt

is more measurable,

the choice,

or the outcome,

the afterward,

or perhaps it is the originator,

who by virtue of the human condition,

isn’t given any allowance

to return the favor of knowledge.

 

We just know the outcome.

On Buying, Sharing, Wondering Love

Oh it is the season now,

and our lives,

torn up, shredded, a certain fodder in the air,

for Man might feel abused,

when in reality,

he ought felt this way,

decades ago,

a century perhaps,

so those followers

could stand a chance.

 

There’s no condemnation

could be strong enough to withstand

the scrutiny of the individual mind.

Oh to recognize the theoretical expanse

of the human condition

taken for chance.

 

If when a cry could send the body reeling,

a ledge perhaps, a modern day semi,

a conductor noticing in a sudden glance,

that life as easily as born,

would become just

an imaginative notion we enhance.

Oh then might the world better understand,

the turmoil in losing our concept on love,

is far greater than the answers we seek,

without the cherished ideal of support of understanding

of forgiveness when fear is our only safeguard.

 

For it is the toys of our world,

we focus upon today,

the frivolous in nature,

the common good toward overcoming the would

of this season

when buying her love is far greater

than actually knowing her sweet elegance.

 

There is lost in the masses of the local bistro,

the purpose in mind,

cell phones inclined,

to keep searching, keep your eyes open,

keep your conscience …

wanting,

we are all in lock-step,

trying to own the sensitive lift,

a spiritual sojourn,

the perfect gift.

The Urge To Move

Felt it?

feel it on occasion,

stuck in traffic seems plausible

in comparison to standing still

unable to navigate the next decision,

next choice,

perhaps a cathartic moment

awaits the imagination,

yet,

for the moment,

the urgency begins to build,

suggesting something has to break …

or are we always in a constant state of projection.

Validation

Is it a want, a need,

a purpose,

defines the living soul,

the eyes of which,

a world may rely upon

to assist

simple understanding.

 

The manner we posture,

a walk, a glance, an utterance,

measured by one,

thought of as many

aspects –

how an introduction

might manifest

an outcome.

 

If by allowance,

a human being may

settle personal desire

within the structure

our normalcy suggests,

would might that insecurity,

begin a confidence,

well managed

in peace.

 

For a desired response,

to our musings

our careful scrutiny,

a passion to rather than pretend,

more assuredly demand

a satisfaction,

validation,

aforementioned affirmation,

perhaps provides,

sweet energy,

in life,

a determination

met by all eyes,

their eyes,

everyone has

many sets of …

 

I’s.

 

 

Being Real

Certainly, life is a challenge,

wake up to a peaceful sunlit morning,

compelled to go back to dreams,

life is waiting with a plundering notion,

at least,

that’s what a voice tells me,

when trying to ascertain,

getting a grip, get a grip, get a grasp,

we all do grapple with a sweet ideal,

when not met, forgotten,

when we seem oblivious to the plan,

whose plan, The Man,

yeah, the Man seems to drive our …

I woke up an hour later,

wondering how I had fallen into,

fallen off, fell forward, free for all,

landing in whatever state of mind I might choose.