Maybe it’s because we want to seem ok
To disregard the hurt and pain that we feel inside on our emptiest days
Maybe it’s because we wish things were different
To have the slightest bit of hope hanging from a thread, intertwined with the aching of our hearts
Maybe it’s because we aspire for change
To long of a time where the universe aligns with our internal clocks and gives us just one last chance.

But maybe it’s because we know that chance will never come
And the burn marks of our inner misery turn into scars we can never ignore
To wear our suffering on our sleeves and let the agony of our existence cloth the rest of us
Maybe it’s because in soul-time we know certain thoughts may never come and lie to rest
To let our daydreams last till nightfall and whisper our deepest desires to the moon.

But when morning comes, the heights of grey turn to yellow, for the sun shall always rise
And we awaken ourselves, returning back to the reality of lies
We look at our reflection, a clear image of our despair
For what we can see may never be of deceit
And our crooked smiles tell the real truth between you and me.

A family of Ravens patrol our valley
nothing happens but they know about it.
Any and all opportunity is taken.
Black witches flying around squawking.
They will fight for food, naturally.
Black feathered shapes across the sky.
Beady eyed deep thinkers, watching.
They may yet peck and pick over my carcass.

He just gave a great talk at a townhall,
"our country needs healing to restore
our great union from the chaos
and sowing of seeds of division
by the current administration.

While love can't drive out it's opposite,
because love's not a physical force
like what those who abuse use, is,
it can enlighten others to not fall for
heartache, mercenaries for more and their tricks.

"Murphy's law's, if something can go wrong it will".
It became, 'if Murphy can f something up he will',
then, 'Murphy's going to f everything up'.
'An ounce of prevention's worth a pound of cure'.
Our nation needs him, vote early, help GOTV, please.

Within our langue, we find us, aura of place.
This while life's trapped meanings, words,
paroled, evoked thus, gesture one
through one, and no other.

While without, betwixt words, languid lessons,
failing to be learned, detail broad-strokes
of reality's brush painting us, the canvas,
the world, framelessly framed.

Yet, languorless, from a bird's eye,
this insight, inner flight to soul's
fathomless essence, unweaves
self's tapestry, to begin anew,

a word, path of study, walked it's way.
A time redefined by what's sublime, communal
solutioning concentrating, sans frontieres.
Shimmering stream to babbling brook's nook.

Before covid, nursing homes residents
were being exterminated for $,
now they're 45 % of corona fatalities,
to steal their SS, this must stop now!

Before the next debate,
ask the President,
when are you going to stop
this preventable American Holocaust?

There is this taste
that I can’t rinse, spit
or rid myself of lately
and it’s not the kind
left behind by a dentist
yanking a wisdom tooth
out or the ****** mouth
from an eighth grade
playground go around
or bad blood in the hood
but something more
like a fight for a life bored
to the bone and hung
out to dry in the sun
having to bite my tongue
on the curse of the irony
of it all that I find too
hard and bitter to swallow.