Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
Scattered,
Over the lands
Fragments of family,
Made from love,
Or something like it
Uprooted,
Upheaval,
Makes the grounds unsteady,
Uninhabitable,
In need of relocation
Roots are separated,
And replanted elsewhere,
To find stability,
And resources,
In another land
Division only spreads the space
Where seedlings find
Familiar roots
Next to which
They may grow
Purple gypsy butterfly
You dance, you sing, you laugh, you cry
You change, you write, you share, you fly
But who am I to pretend,
To deny,
When I am you
And you are I
Tension mounted,
Coils in belly,
Nerve ends alive,
On fire,
I am on guard,
And vigilant
Of the unknown
A threat is present,
I feel in my bones,
And I must remain
Present,
Prepared,
Awake,
Aware,
Well,
And able
To protect my keep
November 10, 2018
And down came the rain
Down on
Everyone;
And
On the men,
On the boys
In trenches,
Waist deep
In death,
For country,
For Honor,
Only to find
No honor
In this new age bloodshed,
As down came the reign
Blood and mud,
Waste and rain,
Toxins,
Bullets,
Bombs,
And down came the rain
Up,
Attack,
Shield,
Shoot,
Kill,
maim,
be maimed,
And down came the rain
Repeat,
Up,
Attack,
And even while down,
Down,
Down
Down
Came the rain.
Because of her
I can aim to see and appreciate
everything and every being,
And I may never feel truly lonely,
even if visibly alone.
Tragedy does not bring change
When from tears
There is money to be made,
Tragedy does not bring change
When from fear
There is money to be made,
Tragedy does not bring change
When peace would kill this market,
Tragedy does not bring change
Something has to change
This daily cycle is insane
When there is only more,
And more,
And more
Of the same,
Of wars abroad
And wars at home,
Where tragedy forces change
But it’s emotional
It’s catastrophic
But for the better
To end this routine
Never comes the change,
There is too much money
To be made.
She of Letters 