What a marvel,
The truth that we
Are dying from the
Moment we have
Come to life,
Our existence is mere
Tug and pull between
De- and regeneration,
Our body prods our cells on,
Pumping short-lasting elixir
Into their microscopic selves,
Ions and stars of energy
Rushing in and gushing out,
We are nothing but
The friendly contest
Between flourish and decay,
One will lose tomorrow,  
The other concedes today.

I dreamed of two men
cold as ice in dark hats
handcuffing a woman
before tossing her in the back
of a black barred truck
with stars on the sides
and a To Protect and Serve
bumper sticker stuck like
a punchline and a baby girl
and young boy were crying
standing behind the yellow lines
but two has never been
a number that adds up to
nothing because it's only legal
to pass one at a time in these
dark days of executive orders
you fear because you know
it's all the evidence they need
to make you disappear.

We can weep, oh America
the name of our country
over and over
our democracy looted
while the new President
is congratulated
and his acolytes kiss ***
like a ruby on the King's ring
the Secretary of Education
can't read and the Secretary
of Energy with his poor memory
drinks from a glass of big oil
while the Secretary of Interior
says there can be no more bees
no butterflies, no more gardens
for us inferiors, there will be
no more dreaming, no poets
or anti-discrimination policies
against anything, no brooms
for sweeping, just last straws
and executive actions handed
down from the white mansion.

( written by friends who know and shared here with their permission)

don't dwell on ****,
the past has passed.
and throw the drugs
down the toilet.

do the things that make
you feel better,
and avoid the things
that make you feel crap.

whatever they are.

eat and drink
things
that make you feel nice,
and be in such places.

know who your friends are
and know how much to load
on them.

force your self
out of bed in
the morning,
go for a walk
enjoy nature.

get a dog.

avoid the news,
and depressing tv.

know
your own routine,
and don't let other people
tell you it is wrong
or feel guilty about it

but also know the line
between what is your own
paranoia and anxieties,
and what is just normal
emotion
and reaction.

be aware of reality,
and how you are
deviating from it.

get over yourself,
and lighten up.

some of it is
indeed physical and psycological,
but much of it
is just ******.

Take as much advice
as can be ,
but it is up
to the individual
to make the decision to change.

as you know.

I found myself rooting for the tiny ant
The spider was trying to trap in its webbed snare,
No thoughts did I spare before swiping a finger,
and helping it make a dramatic escape

As I looked at the spider, left food-less,
Rearrange itself in its meticulous net,
I wondered at the strangeness of this
Little world of ours, and also its pointlessness

We make it seem so rosy and pretty,
Embellish it with garlands of emotions,
But underneath lies the truth of its existence,
Made up of cruelty, chaos and commotion

The Designer painted it beautifully,
But gave it finer embroideries of pain,
He threw in an entire cosmos together,
And arranged it into a food chain

Compartments and more compartments,
Of colour and country and gender galore,
Hustle and bustle to stay put in a labile balance,
That is forever tipped at the cusp of war

We fool ourselves with the sham that our lives
Depend on friendships and love and such stunts,
When what we are, if we think about it,
Is a part, of one gigantic hunt

A hunt for alimentation,
And monetary satisfaction,
And physical satiation,
Does being conditional deserve glorification?

I wonder if I've turned into a permanent cynic,
It may very well be just a phase,
Though the spider would be cursing me for sure,
Not too romantic it is, sabotaging a prey!

solely engrossed, slow to emotions
prone to be a soul that is broken
lowly focus, frozen devotion
vocal notions erode when unspoken

(doing fine, i lie with a smile
while i fight my own quiet trial
i clear my head, i'm alright for a while
but
a mind that is clear is a mind in denial)

goal, avoidance of a throat opened
my vocal notions will go unspoken
choking on the voices stolen
prone to be a soul that is broken

Her eyes are
intoxicatingly
limpid pools.
Dive in.
Get drunk.
Enjoy
the best
hangover
ever.