Isolated Storm Clouds

See them and imagine the future,

an ominous purple haze of opportunity,

for it is the chaos of our lives,

allows change to overcome the static.


Seek a society of forgiveness,

the travels of pain sometime hidden,

yet the exposure to the elements

often a truly ominous test resilient.


When washed ashore in crude oil,

stains did seem to be eternal,

with each soaking, the mind,

nearly gave up on finding shelter.


It is in the addict’s eye

the storm will always remain,

it depends only upon a realization

that life contains sweet horizons.


We would only give attention

to the happiness we dwell upon,

a city scape, an ocean view,

a soft breeze in a given milieu.


The deep and threatening wall

of circumstance that will prevail

is only Nature’s manner of suggestion

we all would know to typically fall.


Powerful anecdote

to pleasure

Makes one decide

one’s reality; another’s tragedy.

How many ways will we wind

our hearts around a memory?

How does that man

keep walking

when I can’t even

cross the road without


to a set of eyes watching me;

those eyes that I haven’t any business knowing

their true purpose,

beyond helping steady gait while crossing paths.


A Bully Moment (Will There Be Shame)

Today’s ‘moment’

Came in a picture

A little boy

And I do mean little


Young enough to cry

Innocence that creates naïve

Mystery mixed in with the ugly

Reality of actions that may

Resonate throughout his

Remaining childhood


If childhood exists any longer


I see the boy standing

With a badge of dishonor

While mom ‘looms’ nearby

Not sure why

But I can’t see any humor

In her eyes

Though there is that pain

I can’t tell in the fuzziness

Of the glossed over moment

Whether there are tears

Or strains of rage


Someone took the photo

Who are they?

Family friend of torture

A passerby that knows no


Just wants to recognize

A display of pure ugliness


Who am I today

Another passerby

Noticing a moment

A little boy

Carrying a sign

With pain in his eyes

I wonder about him in ten years

When he reflects upon this day


Will there be shame?bully