like every year before…

when destitution
permeates society
people seek out and
believe whatever false hope 
is preached by charlatans
who offer up empty dreams
designed to make themselves rich

 

 

 

not to be forgotten…

there’re always rainbows
not those found on the horizon
but those found with love 

 

 

when depressed…

don’t bury your dreams
in the sadness of the world
rather give them life
breathing into them the joy
of hope’s possibility

 

 

be a weaver…

keep weaving your dreams
into a future not seen
or predicted by
one-time dreamers  who’ve lost hope
life’s fabric requires such dreams

if i don’t die before i wake…

hands upon dry earth
dredging for some signs of life
something to believe
hope’s offer for tomorrow
some small reason to arise
the why for opening eyes

 

 

where are the love songs…

voice breaks with sadness
yesterday’s dreams hope’s mist is
lost in night’s darkness
there are no songs without sight
no visions of love to laud

 

 

maybe today…

an old lover’s dream
wraps hope into the new day
but nothing changes

 

 

pittance…

along
the street
i saw
eyes
that
many
divert
theirs from
eyes
that hold
well worn dreams
and
tears of hope
that
what passes
as
normal
today
will soon become
a forgotten
nightmare
and
those looks
of
there but for the grace of god
will be
replaced
by a lover’s
embrace
and
looks
of
commitment
for
a life
together
those looks
of
love
really not
that
much to ask for
is
it

but one voice…

can’t hear
own
thoughts
too much noise
trafficking
from
lies and hate
masking out
voices
in
pain
homeless dreams
some
wrapped
in
the currency
of
war
but
what
can
one voice
do
to rise
above
war’s cacophony
of
misery
though
a simple solution
one
could join
the choir
of
hope
sending forth
words
of
unwavering
belief
in tomorrow
that
grasps
the minds
of
social sinners
like
an old gospel hymn
swaying
the coldest heart
towards
redemption
or
offer up
such a sweet solo
of
truth
so
powerful
that
the walls
of
deception
crumble
into dust
revealing
all
that was hidden
that
my friend
is
what
one voice
can
do
so
rejoice

 

 

they grasp at straws…

parched
for
a taste
of
hope
humans
will consume
poisonous lies
or
even
swear
a mirage
is
real
long before
the madness
has
set in
others
will take
the sacrament
of
sports
where
nothing
has
a consecrated element
just
gladiators and lions
to
distract
their minds
away from
what
they
truly
thirst for
some
tangible
answer
to
their prayers