vision…

i know for some
the gift
of
sight
is
a good things
and
for many
a downright miracle
but
having my eyes
open
for so long
has
blinded me
i
no longer
can see
the shoreline
of
hope
and
the doves
of
peace
that once soared
above my head
are
lost
in the blurred vision
of
the world’s self-interest
i’ve
also noticed
i can barely hear
the dove’s
gentle song
the waves
of
war and hatred
roar
day and night
and
without sight
it is
all
that is known

 

putin’s dream team…

the brown bag prophet
was
leafing through
the sports section
of
our daily news
when
he inquired
if
i had seen
the
international draft picks
he said
they
all
had been
hand picked
by
putin
for their ability
to
disrupt play
and
weren’t opposed
to
blows beneath
the
belt
a game plan
that
would enhance
putin’s
quest
for
worldwide
domination
i
had to admit
that
i didn’t quite
get his point
and
then
he showed me
the
photo

 

turning in his grave…

dad’s grand old party
is now a religious cult
hate’s blind followers

 

shells…

so colorful
on
the outside
firm
to the touch
yet
fragile
so
easily
shattered
by
time’s tide
when
cast
upon
the rocks
of
unfulfilled vows
it’s
then
when we realize
the shells
are
as
empty
as
the lives
of
liars