diamond head…

after picking up
a few
groceries items
for
aunt bea
i stopped
to
drop them off
when
i arrived
aunt bea
was watching
an old game show
on
her
new
smart televisions
since
after years
of
loyal service
the old one
according to her
finally
left office
and
was replaced
by
what
she said
brings to mind
the new class
of
politicians
in
washington
with
a
colorful surface
but
very shallow
since
i hadn’t seen
the game show
diamond head
before
i asked her
what was it  about
aunt bea
said
well
candidates
answer a few questions
and then
the winner
qualifies
to
enter a chamber
and
grab
as much
of
the corporate sponsor’s money
as they can
during
their stay
in
the chamber
makes one
think
of folks
in
washington
doesn’t it

thoughts while reading her sedoka…

her tears are her words
pages filled with memories
memories of nights by his side

memory’s journal
pages stained with her lost dreams
dreams once as real as warm flesh

just the thought…

the brown bag prophet
was sitting
at
a park bench
staring out
at
the ocean
with
his feet
held up
from
the ground
practicing a new yoga position
i posited
he said
no
just saw some
red ants
as i
was
walking here
and
then got
that
feeling
maybe
there’s some ants
just
below my feet
getting ready
to
crawl
all over me
that
same feeling
one gets
when viewing
today’s political scene
ants crawling
all
over you
invading
that little
space of sanity
that
you still
have left
so
like
so many
in this nation
i’ve gone
into
a fetal position
reminding myself
of
the germinal values
of
this now
dying
nation

last will and testament…

i told
aunt bea
that
aunt jenny’s son
came to visit her
in the hospital
but
she sent him
away
and
said
he needn’t
return
nor
show up
at her wake
i
expressed
my confusion
since
he’s all
she’s talked
about
for years
although
he’s
rarely
if
ever visited
her
aunt bea
said
it’s
always nice
to have
a travel companion
in life
but
no one
needs
a navigator
when
they’ve
arrived
at
their destination

in answer to your question…

how do i speak
of justice
that
grey fog
that lingers
along the coast
of life
though seen
from
the inland
it rarely
come this far
 ashore
here
only the smog
penetrates
the lungs
burning
with promises
never fulfilled
nor
intended to be
yet
the foot soldiers
of
innocence
march on
into battles
waving flags
that
mean
little
outside the confines
of
their
dream filled minds
they
like
old men
claiming
the wine
to taste
sweet
although
most know
it’s
as bitter
as
the vinegar
given to
christ
only
differing
by the innocent blood
that gives it
its color
blood
shed
by
seekers of justice
goose stepping
corporate marionettes
appropriately
dressed
for
their role
in
the world’s follies
performances
viewed
with sincere appreciate
by the elite
who would
applaud
but
such actions
would
highlight
the meaninglessness
of such deaths
so
they arrange
for a medal
or
two
as
intermittent reinforcement
but
all are given
a flag drapped coffin
a
consolation prize
a sort of
moral rubber ducky
to be
squeezed
during dark cold nights
provided
by
human greed
a replacement
for the sound
of a human heart
the heart
that was filled
with
love
the one
you used
to
hear