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 Jan 2019 Arlene Carmody
Brandi
We the people built the wall
You can look left
You can look right

But we the people
Yes
WE THE PEOPLE
Built the wall

He didn’t
She didn’t
We all did
We
All
Wall (“e” dropped)

The battlefield is one we meant to use in case of war with the enemy
When did the Enemy become one of our own?
Or an entire group?

When did the Enemy become the media?
The press?
When did it become Trump supporters?
Or Trump himself?
When did the Enemy become those who dislike Trump?
Or those who are politically liberal?

I believe we the people created the Enemy
As philosophical as that sounds
We, the people, did it

We the people touted diversity like the ticket to tranquility
Placing our bets that this warm embrace of peoples
Religions
Backgrounds
Would be a true gift for all people
Rich or poor
Christian or Jew

Here is the truth of the matter
The pursuit of diversity
Of creating a mural of the American people
Was superficial
It was not carried out to its full potential

We became frightened
Untrusting of others
And so we unknowingly
Yet willingly
Began to build walls

It’s quiet
Then there’s a hurricane
A mass shooting
An election

And suddenly you look and see a black man
Or a black woman
Or maybe a younger black boy
Or black girl
Standing behind their call to action of support for the Black Lives Matter movement

And for several months it Is everyone’s story
But then it is not
And people
White
Black
Any color
Feels disappointment
And the belief that walls will just keep growing taller

Because there is hate
There is a form of social paranoia that emerges
Which means more walls

An angel appears in the midst of the havoc
The grief
Under a night sky lit by vigil candlelight of yet another unfortunate event that stole the lives of our brothers and sisters
Saying that God did not mean for us to build walls and live behind them

So one day
A family makes a vow to spread kindness and love to their neighbors
The family comes together in unity
They keep the pieces of their individual walls
But now lay them down at their feet
As a way of getting somewhere
That way leads to their neighbor’s house

They reach out and take the hand of the hurting
No matter what color that hand is
No matter their beliefs
No matter what political wing they favor

It takes two wings for an eagle to fly
Left and right
An eagle with one wing would likely get exhausted
As many feel today

The neighbors receive kindness
And then they act
The walls come tumbling down
They do good regardless of the Enemy’s hatred of good
We the people can all agree
There is an Enemy
That we can be sure
And as we lie in confusion over who or what the Enemy is
We the people are all suffering
From all sides

As more and more people say one more kind word
And we the people find places
Music for the spirit
Food for the soul
That always has been
And always will be
Ours to share and appreciate

It is then we look left and right without a wall in sight
They did not disappear
For the walls simply laid down boards
Displaying the human nature of us all
As we
We the people
Stand on one unshakable
Indivisible bridge

That welcomes liberty and justice for all
That always has been
And always will be
A gift for we the people

© 2018
Brandi Keaton
I know this is a lengthy entry. Please read in it's entirety if possible. I hope in this time of trial and confusion this can bring some hope as one people. Join me in engaging in more kindness. Thank you!
You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.

Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.

You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground

waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish

in your otherwise carefully tended garden.
 Nov 2015 Arlene Carmody
Lily
Once upon a time...
I Met you.
I never thought we would end up like this.
But before I go any further... I must say...
We met, and it was wonderful.
You brought a whole new perspective,
Into my journey of this game named Life.
We talked, and noticed
All the similarities we had.
We became inseparable.
You and I believed it was comraderie at first.
We were brothers,
although many times I had to kindly remind you I was a female.
You and I in the silence,
Was more than a conversation.
Everything we did, was fun.
We went on many adventures,
Together.
Your company was like no other....
You were my best friend.
But through one experience...
It seemed the glass broke.
You no longer saw me as a brother...
You saw me as a...
Woman.
Who knew this view would make you withdraw so quickly.
You retreated and left me in the dark.
You ignored me and avoided me.
I never understood why.
I blamed myself... I lost a brother.
All of a sudden,
You admitted to falling inlove,
With ME.
I was dumbfounded, confused, but most of all happy I heard from you again.
I did not quite understand your feelings,
But your company is what I needed and craved.
Perhaps, knowing how you felt gave me butterflies...
But, I always had them in your company.
Perhaps, I fooled myself into thinking
You were only a brother figure.
Perhaps, this whole time I was inlove with you too...
Just too afraid to admit it.
And with a conversation, and a magical kiss...
I was yours.
That kiss, left me breathless. Sparks were everywhere.
All the fairy tales kisses I believed to be *******...
Came true... When I kissed you.
Everything from then on... Was Magical.
But, like in all stories... Time was not on our side.
Time was our enemy and distance was our betrayer.
Before I left, you began acting strange.
You began ignoring me.
Blinded by love, I kept hopes alive... That this magical reltionship would sustain regardless of the distance.
The day of my birth... You did not come see me. The day of my birth... I was sentenced to leave for awhile.
Where were you? Nowhere to be found.
And when I asked... I instantly knew...
It broke off.
In tears I ran to a friend... Who called you a coward.
I cursed your name...
The last thing you said was
"Happy Birthday, Im sorry".
And here I am.... Foolishly thinking of you.
Without a reason and as my world shatters apart for right now.
There will be brighter days. Those will always come....
Because life never stops for the fool inlove.
©Lily M. Sky
I apologize for the length... Ive been meaning to write this for awhile.
A Birthday Poem for Sally B:
what-matters-can-neither-be-created-or-destroyed

~~~

the principal thing about principles,
like the concept of time,
that in time, with time,
they come to reflect our
immutable essence's own best reflection,
come only, round or square
come only, too little too late
come, too much too soon

so the simpler, the better,
so the matter
of what really matters
needs capture in some
capsulated summary form,
a daily vitamin for the soul

so I thank you for
the gift
of your birthday,
the anibersaryo of a day of naissance,
this one solo, kakaiba,
among the many,
a present presented to the world

*so on this particular day,
we must thank you
for the wonder of wonder
that justifies existence,
for what truly matters

cannot be created or destroyed,

and your matter, mass,
your presence's  Grace upon this earth,
graces the hearts of thousands,
today and forevermore

this is what matters and
can never be recreated,
can never be destroyed...

~~~
Oct. 24, 2015
6:24 am
dispatched from NYC
~~~
Oct 6, 2013      October 20, 2013
The Banyan Tree (A Tribute to Sally)
I am a man, grandfather to four.
Adherent to the same religion,
Poetry.

Breathing through mine eyes,
Exhaling carbon words,
That with time and pressure become
Poems, verbal musical notes upon life.

Each motion, from tiny to grand,
A capsule of expression,
That if examined under microscope,
Familial DNA, interconnected tissue,
Discovered, tho logic says,  
Time and distance render impossible.

But this is a diamond
This is a writ to be slipped
Upon the finger, the heart, the essence,
Of the only Banyan tree I have hugged.

This poem but a fig,
In the cracks of kindness,
The crevices of caring,
It has slow germinated.

You dear, Sally,
My host,
A building upon I can lean,
When wearied spirits uproot
My surficial composure.

Your seeds carried from east to west,
By a fig wasp, a bird unknown,
An ocean voyager, of indisputable vision, strength.

This seeded messenger, word carrier,
Supplanted in me, and your pupils,
Jose-Bolima-Remillan
Xavier-Paolo-Joshh-Mandrez
Whose very names breathe poems,
in others too, like me and Atu,
Seeds to become new roots, but you,
Our Host official and forever
Planter of trees of loving kindness.

You already know with love and affection,
I call you Grandma Sally,
And when you ask, beseech,
I cannot refuse.

Together we will will banish the sad,
Acknowledge we, that life's ocean,
A mixture of many, even sad, a necessity.

But I promise that will turn it into
Something simple, something good.
For you have asked and I answer you
Right here right now - your wish,
My objective, deep rooted like you,
Like an old banyan tree,
Your roots spread far, spread wide.

So some eve, when to the beach, to the sky
You glance, smile, no matter what, troubles dispersed,
For the reflection of you, seeds, full fledged trees now,
Bending skywards, in search of your rays of expression,
Your maternal wisdom rooted, spread so wide, globally,
All over this Earth, is visible from your
Beloved Philippines.


---------------------------------------
In her own words..

I am a widow,
with five remarkable granddaughters....
all beautiful, intelligent girls.
It is such a waste not to write....
each morning that unfolds is filled
with things to write about....
the people, the birds,
the trees, the wind,
the seas,
everything we set our eyes on,
they are all
poetry in motion.
Life itself is poetry,
I always have pen and paper within reach.
My past experiences are a
never-ending source
of ideas and words for my poems....
I shall write until time permits me,
"til there's breath within me."
-------------------------------------------------
A banyan (also banian) is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte (a plant growing on another plant) when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the Indian banyan or Ficus benghalensis, the national tree of India,[1] though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a characteristic life cycle...
Like other fig species (which includes the common edible fig Ficus carica), banyans have unique fruit structures and are dependent on fig wasps for reproduction. The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground.

The leaves of the banyan tree are large, leathery, glossy green and elliptical in shape. Like most fig-trees, the leaf bud is covered by two large scales. As the leaf develops the scales fall. Young leaves have an attractive reddish tinge.[6]

Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. The original support tree can sometimes die, so that the banyan becomes a "columnar tree" with a hollow central core. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area.
Vain I know
I just can't let go
Money that hard to earn
Each day some of it I'd burned

Creating my own clouds
To have strength to join the crowd
When I was a kid, I am too shy
Finally slain my demon of shyness and fly

It started by only feeding my ignorance
Just a single try I've said to my conscience
Seems helping me to have courage in a way
So once, twice, trice until dozen a day

My dear ones begged me to stop
I've tried a lot of times, but I just can't drop
Just like a vampire to blood I crave
To **** the beast of addiction I am not that brave

I am so ****** up now
I am targeting myself with my own bow
A poison I've known from the start
But still I keep it near to my very heart


Written: December 27, 2014

Mysterious Aries
Addiction comes from a different form... How can I enlighten people to stop the ways that aren't good for them, when I can't simply discontinue mine...
Drawing images using some words
Telling some stories that are unheard
Stealing the moment, freezing the time
Killing the beast that vultures the mind

Spilling blood, the pen is our knife
Collecting traces from this mysterious life
Connecting dots to create a line
Polishing stones to make it shine

Our words are riddles, a must to decode
Giving multiple key for them to unload
The meaning of some could make readers insane
If wrongly unlock it will conquer their brain

We are a shape-shifter just like the cloud
Painting angels and demons to enlighten the crowd
Hoping they’ll listen to our joy and our pain
Wishing they’ll get the lesson of our every rain



11/03/2015
Mysterious Aries
 Sep 2015 Arlene Carmody
N Paul
O that grin of hers could turn the Sun;
Draw Him close to sneak a glare
And we’d sizzle as one beneath the Sun,
In a moment of deathly rapture.
 Sep 2015 Arlene Carmody
Savion
You really have to watch those liberal males,
they'll spend hours and hours with you having
deep intellectual conversations.

They'll discuss deep ideas, contemplate esoteric
theory and spiritual ideas. They'll make love
for hours and write deep and meaningful poetry
about you. Sure, they will probably wear their hair
long and most likely won't own a television.

But, they'll understand art and architecture and
literature. It's true that they probably won't give two
shakes about who won what football game, but they'll
dance with you late at night under the stars and they're
always looking for new ways to please you and usually
understand your deepest thoughts, often before you
understand them yourself.

They'll be your best friend and always treat you as
an equal, in fact, it will never even enter their mind
that you're not. They're almost always physically fit, too,
because they're usually the outdoorsy type and love to hike.
They never make fun of others, or discuss small ideas.
They enjoy discussing ways to improve the world and
the lives of others.

Sure, they won't slap you on your *** and tell you to get in
the kitchen and cook them some dinner and bring them a beer
while you're at it like those macho men on the right. Instead
they'll probably tell you to relax while they whip you up a
gourmet meal and serve it to you on the best dishes.

Yeah, you really gotta watch out for those liberal males.
I wrote this in response to a derogatory comment about liberal men.
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