Our interpretation of time
is only backed
by the ego of our arrogance
as if we alone could master
the infinite mysteries of the stars
and chain them to the definition
of the dot to dot constellations
of our limited imaginations

then trap the sands of time
to gears and springs
and strap it to our brittle wrists
as we crown ourselves
the children of a grand designer
who sculpted our flesh alone
in “HIS” most holly image

we know nothing of the things
we pretend to know
as the flaw of our intelligence
is that it is self designed

we are non the better
than the creatures
we share this planet with

other than we deny ourselves
the simple pleasures
of howling at the moon
or singing with the sunrise
or laying on the surface
and in the silence
of the moonlight shimmering
over the still waters of a pond

we make noise
when it is unnecessary
and keep silent
when we should speak out
as the devil in our deeds
is in every detail
of the cruelty
we have spread out through history

sometimes in the name of god
and sometimes in the name of country
and in the times
of our most overindulgent hypocrisy
in the name of both

as we have dived ourselves
by imaginary lines
drawn in the sand
we believe we have trapped
and strapped to our brittle wrists

as if time is only on our side
moving in one direction
playing by our rules
shaped by the god
we created to bless us
for our self inflected
and self indulgent sins

because it is easier
to blame the devil
for the all fruit we steal and horde

but the devil is only real
in the crimes committed
by the blood we have
running in our veins
and the blood we spill
to feed the fear and hatred
of fables and myths too old
for anyone to remember
written in languages
no one has ever spoken or heard

all the while we ignore
the simplest of facts
that when we have gone too far
dropped one too many bombs
let one too many bullets soar
that when fear and hate swallows
the last of us whole

that time will march on without us
and that all in all
all we have strapped to our brittle wrists
is nothing more
than our meaningless egos

He steps into his fathers boots
and his feet are soaked in blood
and he straps on a helmet
already riddled with bullet holes
to his head
and marches off to an endless war
with the same hate in his blood
fueled by the same pride in his heart
as his fathers father before him
“For god and glory!” he shouts
without questioning what it is
he’s fighting for

A pawn from the other side
steps onto the board
and repeats the same thing
walking the same steps as his father
in the same shoes as his father
in blind obedience
with the same hate
and the same pride

two sides on the same board
and somewhere in the middle
all the pieces are painted
with the same color of death
and the squares disappear
into puddles of blood
that turn into the rivers of ink
that write the obituaries
of all the young lives sold off
to the illusion of freedom
that whispers that this is the price
we must pay over and over again
for god and glory

but somewhere behind the curtain
hands are being shook
and money is exchanged and piled up
and the pigs are keeping themselves fat
from the feast provided
by the endless storm of bullets and bombs
raining down from the smoke pouring out
of the diseased heart
of the never dying war machine

the corpses are stripped down
and sent home  
and the boots are recycled
and isn’t it a beautiful parade
with all those dead bodies
wrapped in a flag full of pride
with a lesson of how to hate

to keep the peace
we keep a gun loaded
with nuclear bombs
pointed at each other’s forehead

and somewhere in the distance
in a hospital room
in a bedroom
in the arms of a new mother
a new father

a baby cries

with a fresh pair of feet
that will one day
******* an old pair of boots
and step onto a square
and march off
to the endless war
of god and glory

Have you met the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man?
He scammed fig leafs in the garden,
And **** cloth in Ottoman.

     outside-in, inside-out; upside-down, right-side up

The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can cuss.
He offers snake oil, spins a tale,
So you feel smart, healthy and hale.

     from top to bottom, bottom to top

The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can't stop.
He swrawls with a Sharpie pen.

     right is left, left is wrong

That's the Who-Gee Boo-Gee song.

Consultation for now is free,
No hidden added extra fees:
You buy two, you get three.

     north to south, east to west

The Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man won't rest.

I've heard his feet are cloven;
The eyes are yellow, lips look swollen;
He has *******, wears silk- woven.
He sweats like water to the lowest level;
He's quicker than the slyest devil,
Selling hell, but we hear heaven;
Doing so twenty-four seven.

He photo-shops secret desires,
Twists truth-tellers into liars;
Artful, wily, scheming, subtle,
The Who-Gee Boo-Gee's a hungry jackal.

     today is the day, yesterday's late,
     tomorrow's a place that just won't wait

I met up with the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man,
Peddling apples from my jardain.

The innocent and the ignorant think it’s always just like the movies and criminal tv shows. A black eye, bruises, a battered and beaten woman crying in a shower or hospital bed. They always ask “why didnt you go to the police?!”

I can remember how it all started, even as far back as middle school. My neighborhood was the last stop for the bus which only left us the choice to sit in back with the bad kids, the older boys. They made me sit on their hands, talked about my *******, grabbed us, touched us and tormented us.

Unless she is black and blue, no one will believe she’s the victim.

He was going out for a smoke and I needed fresh air. I followed him up the stairs and somehow was at his room, he just had to grab his pack. I asked for a drink of water... I woke up, he had me completely immobilized with his body and just one hand, shirt up, pants down. I couldn’t move at all. “He knew I wanted it, that I liked it”... I tried to take control, I tried to ****** him to let me go. Finally I but his lip so hard he let me go. I left first thing the next morning.

I drank too much and I could not drive home, I asked to sleep a little at a friends house before driving home. He took that as an invitation for ***. He pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed despite adamant NO NO NO. I was a *****, a tease, what was I holding out for, he knew I wanted it... he finally got his way, I had no where else to go.

I’ve woken up to boyfriends touching me, having *** with me - somehow the understanding was that this is my duty as a girlfriend, conscious, willing or not...

These stories can go on and on. They didn’t beat me, I wasn’t battered and bruised but I was forced against my will. I knew there was no proof to support me, and who would believe the girl who stayed out too late, drank too much or gave in to her boyfriend.

Boys will be boys

I have witnessed this with many friends and was speechless to speak out... it’s not as easy as you think. It has become an expectation for women. Sometimes you finally give in just to make the harassment stop.

But there are those men, the ones that will take their time, that no means no, who realize there is time to get there if the feeling is right... we need more men like this.

Raise your boys right and your women strong.

❤️

The hateful state of the new american way
what a monstrous thing
we have made of the dream
fear rules the simple minded
and the simple minded don’t mind
the mess we have made of everything

history repeats itself
as we have learned nothing
from our past mistakes
rinse reload repeat
a brand new ****** day
for the new american way

not safe in the school yards
not safe in the churches
and synagogues
not safe in our own skin

how do we fight the monster
that stays invisible
until the moment it squeezes
the trigger of a gun full of bullets
from a heart full of hate

what has might ever made right
when war after war treaties are signed
but the peace that is kept
is nothing more than a powder keg
waiting to explode

unfortunately hatred
survived the holocaust too