Asking for a Friend

 

Are you ok with it all,

The at each other's throat

Super highway of bile,

The constant vitriol,

From anger mismanagement central

Brains rotting, Inflamed by hate,

Vomiting ignorance and anger,

Frothing like some rabid badger

Because of rainbows,

Because of love,

Because true self expression is scary, 

So kill it with fire, right?

Easier than engaging and asking questions,

Easier than accepting or at least tolerating

that which you can't understand.

Easier than learning.

And so you are easy marks

For a classic grift and con.

Are you ok, With it all,

The picking of your pockets,

I mean, are you ok with your

attachment to hate.

Is love dead?

Asking for a friend.

I Remember

 I remember the innocence,

The blessed ignorance

of youth,

Kicking a can,

Listening to it thunk, clank, crack, tink and roll

down the street.

I remember the soakers and the

frogs,

The hikes and the logs,

The bikes and my first dog,

What a gift she was.

I remember the fifth hole at St. Davids,

The willows swaying in the breeze,

And the sun beating down.

I remember my mother's touch,

My father's smile,

The smell of four mile creek behind the old General Store,

And I remember a life, less complicated.

Less corrosive to the soul. 

 

 

Touch

Where has it gone,

Into hiding,

Behind a disguise,

Afraid.

It was warm,

Comforting,

There for you,

Like a blanket,

Like your old favorite sweater.

I miss it,

Like I miss my parents,

Like I miss my pets,

Like i miss sanity.

Touch

Stay Safe

 There's hatred in the streets,

A virus and global heat,

Many dead on their feet

On a front line of loss

So, stay safe.

There's selfishness and greed,

Fear of failure, 

Can we succeed,

They're putting profit ahead of the need.

So, stay safe.

There's a vice grip on everyone's mind,

Not enough people are kind,

Too many falling behind.

Blaming each other for pain.

A world seemingly going insane

So, stay safe.

And all of the issues we face,

Are still there,

This isn't a race,

This world runs on money,

Not grace.

So... stay safe.

  

Trump

Festering orange lump,

A clown,

A grump,

Not a tree

But a stump,

A veritable

Toxic dump,

Of humanity

Trump,

A bad case of the mumps,

A clod,

A clump,

A constant pain in the rump,

A bump.

A stinking sump pump,

With a hump.

It's time to

Fire this chump

A Poem

A brain inflamed, misfiring,
Closed loop of despair on repeat,
Palpitations keeping time
An off beat composition of fear in overdrive,

A heart tired of feeling,
A soul tired of being,
A rented room full of tears
And empty cigarette packages

An artist without a canvas,
A musician without a note,
An angel of empathy
Absorbing shit that can’t be flushed.

A body aging, aching,
A life of privilege and observation,
So much selfish destruction
And anger.

A life lived in relative safety,
Wishing the same for all,
Witness to monstrous atrocity
With no way of stopping it.

A world turning, oblivious,
Spinning and not caring,
About the pretentious humanity
Defiling her.

A poem, a pointless exercise,
Sounds interesting to the ear,
Will not heal the wounds
That bleed freely, hate and fear.

Love weeps, and waits for a better day. 

This Missing Love. (To a Bigot)

What is it you hate about me,
Am I too this, too that,
Not enough of the other thing.
Maybe a tad too different,
Not quite like you,
Not your favorite old sweater,
Perhaps a bit uncomfortable.

What is it you hate about me,
Am I too queer, too fat, too colourful.
Not enough normal for you,
Not enough same,
Not a beer with the guys,
Or a pizza on Tuesday night,
What is it.

What is it you hate about me,
Is it the air I breath,
The blood in my veins,
The feelings that resemble your own
greatest fear.
Are you afraid you might actually
Have to care about something,
Are you afraid of your own humanity.

What is it you hate about me,
Is it something I said,
Is it something you learned
From your prejudiced pecking order peers.

What is it you hate about me,
Is it the fact I make you think,
Make you face your own stone cold heart.
Make you face your own personal shit.

What is it,
This hate.
What is it,
This anger.
What is it,
This missing love.