This body that I call my own
Is air, water, earth and fire.
The urge to be--to live, to persist--
Forms the basis of desire.

Manifesting in different forms--
Countless forms that I call "me"--
I'm like a river that flows through life
And longs to be at one with the sea.

I'm like a wave upon the ocean.
At times I whisper, but often I roar,
Especially when I move too close
To land and crash upon the shore.

My ****** form--shifting, amorphous--
Is constantly changing its shape, its form,
Similar to the clouds in the sky
That float, that tower, that wildly storm.

I'm one with the past and one with the future,
Immeasurable in time and space.
Since I am what I am, I
Can never truly be out of place.

I'm the range of human emotions:
Happiness, sadness, love, and fear.
At times I'm a vision that no one can see;
At times I'm the sound that no one can hear.

I am the stars; I am the mountains;
I am the wind; I am the rain.
There's never a reason to worry because
There's nothing to lose and nothing to gain.

I breathe along with the universe,
Imbibing its force with every breath,
Thus transcending mass and light,
Distance and time, life and death.

-by Bob B (12-15-22)

I ran into Tom Turkey this morning
As he was leaving a bar.
"Starting early?" I asked as I
Stopped and got out of my car.

"Yes," he said, "I'm drowning my sorrows--
More than just a tad.
Many have lost their loved ones lately.
That's why I'm so sad.

"After the recent mass shootings,
How are people able
To sit down and be thankful this year
At their Thanksgiving table?

"Some are going to mourn as they
Sit next to empty chairs
And ask one another plaintively
If anybody cares."

"I know what you mean," I said, "for I
Wonder the very same thing.
Deaths by shootings in this country
Seem to be in full swing."

"I guess," Tom mused, "that people will be
Thankful for what they've got.
Moreover, they will probably be
Thankful that they weren't shot."

"Maybe, " I said, "people could be
Thankful that we have the means
To stop all these atrocities
And end these horrible scenes.

"But that won't happen unless we act.
Certainly that is key.
People who care about this country
Probably will agree.

"And then you've got Putin's war
Devastating Ukraine!"
"Don't get me started on THAT!" he cried,
"You're piling pain upon pain!"

"Gotta go now," he said, as he walked
Away with a wobbly gait,
And added, "I'm thankful that I did NOT
End up on a Thanksgiving plate."

-by Bob B (11-24-22)

Saturday night, November 19:
A gunman entered a bar
And started shooting at those who were present,
Leaving a somber scar

On many lives, for five were killed;
Their lives can't be replaced.
Such a shooter lives with hatred
And anger interlaced.

Nineteen others were injured there.
Their lives will never be
The same again, for they'll live with
That dreadful memory.

The patrons used to consider the club
A place where they could feel
Safe and secure with being themselves--
A place where they could be real.

No longer will that be the case.
The LGBTQ
Community has once again
Seen malice flourish anew.

Vicious words and violent speech
Have gotten out of hand,
And people lose their humanity when
The fires of rancor are fanned.

Hatred comes in many forms
And leaves a nasty smirch
On all of us, and sadly it
Is often taught in church.

-by Bob B (11-22-22)

A massive field of energy
With quantum fluctuations:
That is how it all began,
From all indications.

And then the Big Bang came about,
Giving birth to us,
And energy became transformed
Into matter. Thus,

We are beings who go way back
Into a distant past.
Over 13 billion years--
Before the die was cast.

Within that scheme, planet Earth
Is relatively young,
And many of the scientists'
Songs remain unsung.

No one knows for certain why
It all was orchestrated.
We ALL seem quite unique, and yet
We're ALL somewhat related.

Billions of years, collapsing stars:
So difficult to grasp.
The vastness of the universe
Makes us stop and gasp.

-by Bob B (11-20-22)

Mr. Trump, for many years
We've watched you disregard the rules.
But tell us: what do you take us for--
A groveling, ignorant bunch of fools?

Making an early campaign announcement
For you, of course, is apropos,
And surely it is a way for you
To rake in tons and tons of dough.

You love the spotlight. Yes, you do.
But, frankly, that should give you pause,
For don't you realize that what
The spotlight does is point out your flaws?

Because of your lies, the nonsense you spout,
And your general lack of humility,
People see you less as a help
And more as a threat or liability.

We know that you have always carried
A hey!-it's-all-about-ME card,
But running for president doesn't give you
A get-out-of-jail-FREE card.

Investigations will still go on
Despite your bold but feeble attempt
To skirt the laws from which no one--
Not even YOU--should be exempt.

You and your cohorts, such as Bannon,
Will take your donors for a ride.
All we can say is, "Nice try, Trump.
Good luck finding a place to hide."

-by Bob B (11-16-22)

(This poem could be sung to the melody of Rodgers and Hammerstein's song "Climb Every Mountain” from THE SOUND OF MUSIC.)

Vote Democratic!
Hear now my plea.  
More’s at stake than merely
Our economy.

Vote Democratic!
Let freedom thrive.
Democratic values
Must be kept alive.

A candidate who
Tries to push Trump’s Big Lie
Is not right for the job.
You will see by and by.

Vote Democratic!
May hearts be stirred.
Sing the song of freedom.
Let your voice be heard!

Our rights are at stake,
Like the freedom to choose.
People must realize
We have so much to lose.

Vote Democratic!
May hearts be stirred.
Sing the song of freedom.
Let your voice be heard!

-by Bob B (10-17-22)

In Austria, where I was raised,
A girl like me was highly praised
For entertaining folks at court with song.
But ever since I've been in France,
I barely get a second glance.
Is what I’ve done so really all that wrong?

The rumors fly; they say of me
That I spend far too lavishly
And I should go back home where I belong.
If you were tied to Louis, you
Would know why I do what I do.
Is what I’ve done so really all that wrong?

And so if I say "Fiddlesticks!"
To those who scorn my politics,
I add, "Just wait and let me sound the gong."
But people keep on splitting hairs,
Accusing me of cheap affairs.
Is what I’ve done so really all that wrong?

What is there to hide
Besides my wounded pride?
How COULD they be so mean
To send me TO the guillotine?

I hear that people didn’t take
It well when told to eat some cake
Instead of bread; that didn’t please the throng.
A few faux pas and folks see red
And smear your name and want your head!
Is what I’ve done so really all that wrong?

-by Bob B (9-17-22)