with the end in sight….

with the end in sight2

i’ve begun
to count
each step
i take
not with
one
of
those fancy
exercise watches
but
on paper
with
black tick marks
totalled
for the day
it’s a way
of reminding myself
that i’m still alive
though
inside
a glass-walled prison
of
social expectation
a prison
that continues
to feed the poor
on political gruel
and
war’s
soylent green
while
a minority
enjoys
what was
promised
to all
ah
the all
tapping white canes
of comprehension
against
the political hollow curbs
of a make-believe
cities of gold
all the while
walking
on the edge of a cliff
with
so few steps
to the abyss

yes i know…

yes i know

his voice
harsh
and
filled with
fiery venom
blazoned
that
i
was
guileless
and
that
this world
was full of
hateful people
cognitive clones
heeding
pointless creeds
that undermine
all
humanity
by
acts of coordinated cruelty
self-appointed saints
wrapped
in their self-righteous shroud
of holy words
words
authored by
men
to justify
personal
and
socialized sins
claims
i could not
deny
deity or not
i still elect
to believe
that love
and
hope
are
the embers
needed
to light
the bonfires
to guide
our journey
if
such
beliefs
be naive
then
guileless
i
be

wine..cheese..and a perfect baguette…

wine..cheese..

the journey began
with empty pockets
but
along the way
through
studies
skills
were gained
and
through
pain
knowledge
skills
provided for
life’s necessities
pain
provided for
life’s lessons
lessons
of how to travel
the twisted path
of existence
a path travelled
with friends
and
lovers
for short distances
most of whom
found other places
to go
and
other dreams
to pursue
from time to time
youthful passions
like fog
obscured
the vision
making it possible
to be
twice robbed
along this road
of coins earned
as an indentured servant
but
the compass
of hope for tomorrow
gave direction
from moments
of chaos
and
the journey
continued
and
the empty
knapsack
was soon full again
not only
with coins
but
more importantly
with love
love
that makes
seeing the destination
less painful
for
it appears
the journey ends
in a dark void
with
empty
pockets

[/audio

show some respect or else…

show some respect or else

the brown bag prophet
held up a sign
outside the city courthouse
that read
your trust
is the foundation
of your ignorance
as always
an explanation
would be offered
as i passed by
he said
do you realize
that we live
in a police state
the police
can confiscate
anything
they suspect
maybe related
to criminal behavior
on your part
plus
the pd gets to keep it
or
sell it
for the department’s benefit
they don’t have to
prove
anything
just have
suspicions
i’d call that
a conflict of interest
or
more appropriately
policing for profit

open for public use…

open for public use

so long
sought
pursued
with passion
but
when found
it seemed
quite simple
ubiquitous
in nature
expectations were
some golden glowing light
almost blinding
but
it’s
quite
straight forward
where one
listens to the heart
and
denies no one
the right
to live
this thing
called
wisdom

my old friend…

my old friend

i took a walk
by the sea
with camera
in hand
hoping to find
a photo
that expressed
tranquillity
one of those
money shots
that
people place
upon their walls
to help them
withstand
a routine
existence
one that could
even
brighten
your day
but
found
only reasons
for tears
a beach
where
sand and stones
were suffocated
beneath tar blankets
of thick black oil
and
a small sea-lion
shivering
and
gasping
for air
a refugee
of an environmental war
where profits
determine
the outcome
like
all wars
a pup
fleeing the violence
of greed
whose journey
left him
impaled
fish hooks
cast aside
by careless fishermen
who forget
that they do not
own
the sea
but
share it
oh
i wish
i could have found
tranquillity
rather than
a
tale
that has
no
happy ending

Sea-lion pup has three fishing-hooks in him…can you find them….can you help him? Note the oil on his fins.

random acts of cruelty…

grandfather clock

slain
years ago
yes
slain
years ago
so the stench
in the air
must be from
the beast’s
decaying bones
no part of it remains
to think so
would be
well
insane
reported stories
of
unchanged
human cruelty
and
abuse
cannot be right
for our brave
political knights
have assured us
the beast
was
slain years ago
yes
most certainly
years ago
so that stench
in the air
must be from
the bodies
of those
unfortunate
few
who died of
unknown
and
random
cruelty
not that
of the beast
for the beast
was slain
years ago
indeed
years
ago