The world is a deep shadow
cast over
the cold shoulders
of strangers
who need not be
so deeply
lonely,

when each smile passed
could be a blast
of cherished sunshine,

and each kind word heard
could be a warm wind
the hold us up
and takes us in
a gentle hug.

In moments of
deep seated grief
it helps to see
and believe
that there are
other true hearts
that bleed
similar ink.

There is a little, little man
In a big, big house

A louse, a grouse
Smaller than a mouse

He tweets and tweets
Slandering pandering

Mouse squeaking
With all he’s got

A hurricane ****
A sneeze breeze

He’s
******

Is it to strive to be
Mr. Fitness,
to not be worthless
and work this
body into
some shape
that may inspire
some other dude
or attract
feminine views,
with workouts,
supplementation,
proper hydration,
and excellent nutrition?
Should I strive to be
Mr. Perfect?

Is it in the pursuit of
knowledge and wisdom,
constant reading
observing,
and listening
as I work to unravel
all that the world
has to offer,
whilst knowing
no matter what surface
I am showing
by growing such depth
there will still be
an infinity and eternity
of information
that eludes me?

Is it in the creation
of art
where I project
the heart
of all that I have seen
and felt
exposing my entire self
flaws and all
to the world
that does not
seem to care
one flit about
the **** I tout?

Is it in my relations,
how I interact,
how I treat
all whom I meet
striving to be kind
while I struggle to find
the balance that keeps me
from losing my mind?

Or is there no
purpose for me?

Sticks and stones will break our bones,
But those words are surely killing us.

Words of repression, hate and scorn,
Roiling words that slash and burn.

Throw a stone, wield a stick,
Don't use those words that rile the sick;
The haughty right that smile then sneer,
That march with torches, emitting no light;
Saluting with an arm out tight.

Sticks and stones will break our bones,
But words are surely killing us.

Is it relative
to the struggle
to live
that worked
its way
from all
the epic yesterdays,
each generation
passing dna,
each saga
set in stone
by the sages
who remember?

Is it based
on the formula
of hourly wages
times the time
we put in
constantly working
as a cog in
the machine?

Is it
a product
of relationships
from familial
to all of our
friendships?

Is it
measured
by potential
future achievements?

Or are we just
pounds of flesh
easily discarded,
meat for the factory
cannon fodder,
children to the slaughter?

I wonder,
what is the value of life?

Preacher
give me
a practical
parable,
a pleasant metaphor
for
something deep
and meaningful.

Preacher
pass on
some wild
wisdom
that I was
sadly lacking,
please go on
unpacking
with unpracticed ease
whatever lie
you please
wrapped up
in your
bibleleese
bubbling
*******.

I know you’re
very content
with it.

So, preach away,
but do not
expect me
to swallow it.

Dead flesh
falls fast,
like statues of ash
which drop
after that
horrible flash.

Black shadows
of negative space
paint the sidewalk
in that nightmare place.

I can see the shaded form
of former children
who once ran and played.
Now all that remains
is charcoal dust
and pictures that must
bear witness to
the loss of human innocence.

Atomic madness,
mushroom clouds
made this
tragic story,
leaving sick clouds
to cough up
nuclear poison
on another batch of
innocent children.

our lives are fraught with numbers

so many fractions of a second faster in a race  
most wins on record   best jury votes
highest flight   deepest dive   most goals
meters of rising sea levels
millions of refugees   and more displaced
tens of thousands  honor killings
thousands of deaths with Ebola  
millions of Zika virus victims next year
billions of deficit or profit in import/export
    or the stock exchange
votes in elections    or for beauty queens

polls    tweets   virtual friends  & followers
likes on the social media    on hellopoetry

we have been taught to measure our status
our importance   and the significance of our lives
in clicks of other peoples’ digital devices

even our time has been reduced to numbers
the digital has long replaced the comprehensive
instead of the round dial that shows 12 hours
    suggesting the duration of a normal day
we have a punctual display  without the whole
the cyclical has lost against the linear

0101010101010101010101010101010101
we all look forward to our numbered future
no past  and very little present

our hands on smart phones    homes    TVs
    pushing a button makes things move
    swishing a screen displays the world

over all that we easily forget
that we ourselves have been reduced to numbers
    of customers for businesses
    of voters for the politicians
    of workers for the corporations
    of citizens for our nations
digital quantities we have become

and if we take a global view
we are part of the seven billion plus
that currently inhabit our earth


all of which do expect their individuality
be honored  and their dignity respected

numbers don’t  honor individuality
they simply count the units
items  or people  are for them the same

it’s left to us to find a way
that leaves the numbers in their place
yet guarantees us dignity
as individual members of the human race

it seems the bipolar view
of US vs. THEM
the cry that WE
are always the victims
of all these aliens
has also caught on
among some European idiotic leaders
who seriously believe
that building walls and fences
would make their countries great again

fact is that keeping all refugees out
is not only inhuman and unlawful

it shrinks our concepts
of the wonderful diversity of our world

down to a tunnel vision
of global monotony

as boring as it gets!

when those we have elected tell us blatant lies
     and call them “alternative facts”
we should not wait too long to call them liars
make them aware that we don’t share
their newspeak fantasies and visions
     removed from everyday reality

nor do we treasure their maneuvers
     that keep the media all hyped up
reporting every tweet as if it were
     one of the ten commandments
     Moses once held up in stone

while
     unmentioned
behind quite secret White House doors
the leader’s relatives and cronies
    incompetent but greedy
are nominated for positions of whose duties
    they do not really have a clue

a friend of oil & coal & fracking
supposedly protects our environment

an ignorant billionairess
     who never really saw a public school
is now in charge of education

a business man with heavy ties to Russia
is asked to steer our foreign policy

a judge well known for his quite racist bias
is thought to fit into the supreme court

and many of the Wall Street’s alligators
     whose swamps the current leader
     has kept promising to drain
     all through his great campaign
are happily assembled ‘round the trough
of power  influence  and money

facts quite ‘alternative’ indeed
     from those that had been promised
          for over more than a whole year
by that self-styled
‘candidate against the establishment’
     with not so secret Russian ties

simply unbelievable

when a bunch of  old Senate men
and some intimidated women
voted to heave

     an accused ******
     and proven liar with an alcohol problem
     given to irascible outbursts, fits of self-pity
     and insulting comments on women

into a lifelong seat on the highest court in the nation
     against voluminous evidence of his lacking qualifications
the statue of the Goddess of Justice
     whom a former attorney general
      had all covered up in blue cloth
dropped her sword and scales
tore off her blindfold
and covered her naked ******* in shame

Grief sees grief,

sorrow spoken
in tear drops
and swollen
red eyes.

Grief speaks to grief,

in holding hands,
hugs and
heartfelt conversations.

Grief cannot cure grief,

or see sorrows removed,
flesh unbruised,
and the abused
reborn.

Grief can ease grief,

tension softened
in the presence
of those
who share the essence
of similar
experiences.