By suggestion, a place for the poets among us to post their words.
All true - immigrants are not the enemy.
He takes bread with butter
Loves to boast and ham
Truth has never been uttered
From the mouth of this man.
He must play the rallies
To hear the cheers and hands
Divides by aid from allies
United is not in the plans.
He hates mother nature
But Fox is his best friend
Now he is endangered
Though RINO’s still defend.
He adores oligarchs
Rushin’ to their demands
Whenever Putin barks
Puts his head in the sand.
He deserves bread and water
Desserts for the conman
Turns out he’s a squatter
Hides rubles in foreign land.
No more bread with butter
No more kin and klan
No more will we shudder
Get rid of the money man!
Sadat with Begin and Gandhi ‘fore King
Nations found foundations to peace building
But harmony isn’t how we or the world sing
And blood’s still gushing like hot water springs.
Bet on wise women for peace to have a chance
Before the puppet does his shadow dance
They addressed advantaged deviants’ advances
Now give them a hand so each life enhances.
Denigrated and denied for far too long
Women aren’t playing good old boy songs
Deeming to undo what the men did wrong
Because man’s fighting unless doing bongs.
Today’s woman will bring this cabal to tears
Sweeping in souring deals ‘til the swamp clears
Fair ladies will help to rebuff four gone years
With a peace from justice and the touch to fear.
Change begins with a meaning not a meme
as news tie rants that demean and redeem
to trying true untried treacherous schemes
with deflection reflected in muddied streams.
Would a King have need to alter his theme
when the policies policed past extreme
extinguishing light a distant hope gleams
of life not lived just in afternoon dreams?
Though the furor denies folks real esteem
some stay mum to silencing this regime
damning yanks for what eternity seems
to deals lost by pitches of little league teams.
The subpar deceived to ascend supreme
but when they go low, turn on the high beam
highlighting lies until the message screams
then increase heat as the tea party steams.
The same as it’s always been
Quickly, quietly and carefully
We are continually leaving
Never a moment of insignificance
Or ignorance from how small we really are
Just the constant, familiar forward motion
All the truth was never wasted time
Or the beauty in the fading pictures
Even the torn years still worth the ride
All it took was a sly smile on the East bound bridge
The world slowed enough to finally notice
Everything bright, clear and present
The same rain falls in the tall grass
Just before the dunes and salt spray
Those waves bringing us back
Running full speed down the narrow drive
Years went by like whispers in the palms
Our eyes always focused on the road ahead
The little wars between us never pause for long
It’s always August somewhere and forever far behind
The words that cut and scar, and write the saddest lines
I always found your hand as it reached towards mine
Even in the lost days when we barely spoke a word
Following every crooked step, dark angels watching over us
Then September came and Violet was there, and brighter days
Always the steady side-long glance at the unspoken moments
Waves of heat radiating off the pavement in the hot Sacramento sun…
…Hours before the show
The vibe is Trippy, Hippy and deep,
But she has promises to keep,
After cake and lots of sleep.
Sweet dreams come to her cheap.
She rises from her gentle bed,
With thoughts of kittens in her head,
She eats her jam with lots of bread.
Ready for the day ahead.
Whose Tapestry is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite happy though.
Full of joy like a vivid rainbow,
I watch her laugh. I cry hello.
She gives her Tapestry a shake,
And laughs until her belly aches.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.
Empathy is not pathological
As refugees run north from gangster wrath.
They help support an aging demographical
So immigration is just a logical path.
The rains came in the Fall
The leaves covered the drive
We stayed inside and waited…
Waited for the warning bell to sound
And the people we knew to assemble
For things that were meant to happen
Waited at Otter Crest Beach
Down the long twisted road
Towards the jagged cliffs and tunnels
Waited in Ketchum, Idaho
Whiskey drunk at the Pioneer Saloon
Drawing her picture on a coaster
Waited, as the New Year passed
On the long snowy road to Jackson
Flakes hitting the window - the music up loud
Waited for the road to open outside Driggs
Sliding down Teton Pass, with the palest light rising
The only sound – tires breaking through new snow
Waited out the heat north of Tucson
Under the slow fans and adobe walls
Through the startling quiet of the nights
Waited by the winding ribbon of the Rio Grande
Past the sandy banks in the steps of boot heels
Under the yellow moon with only the murmur of water
Waited five days on the Saharsa Junction train platform
The sweltering humid Monsoon flooding the tracks
Barely noticing the rats scurrying across our feet
Waited all night in a truck stop diner outside Laredo
Flies batting against the dirty windows and falling
Returning to hurl them-selves at the glass again and again
Waited for fear of the unknown to pass by
Waited through the pain that is my lover
Waited for the whispers in my heart to cease
....mud on my face, mixed with a tear.