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Where is the sound
            That once gave meaning
To my name?
It seems lost in the echoes
                    The sound of a
Crying shame.

                     I try to pinpoint the time
Channels I was
Passing through
                    When I could interpret pre-echo
When each syllable
Rang true

                   When my offspring was purer
Relative to
Innate impurities.
                    Girl, boy vastly interrupted.
So much for blood
As a surety.

Belly fire lessens with years.
                     Caution blows back
In the wind.
Flirting with status quo delusions.
                    Slogans & logos
Slowly rescind.

                 Pure thought tainted with church &  state.
Leftist & Right Wing views
Scientifically spliced.
                  This new world creation seldom takes sides.
Calculates the outcome & always
Dresses nice.

I’m halfway there, queasy still
                    Rhetorical views beginning to
Make sense.
Cautious malaise on either side.
                       Starch chaffing neck  
Outcome offense.

                       I occasionally hear my voice
That blew with caution
In the wind.
                    Volcano dormant still pushes the crust.
Delusions sicken me back
To the fringe.

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
You don't give a glass of water
  To a drowning man
And you don't throw a thirsty man  
  Into the deep blue sea

Yet I drank deep of that glass
  Though my lungs were full of water
And thanked you for the refreshing swim
  As I gulped the briny down

                      --Daniel Irwin Tucker
Sometimes we can be the bull in a China Shoppe or the clerk behind the counter, the partner in a marriage, a colleague at work or. . . well, just fill-in the blanks -------- --------)    
"Ok, thank you. Now just stand there while i move this nice showcase of our Royal Dalton outside. Good bull. Now slowly turn around  (crash) ... thats ok, I'll clean it up later. What's that? Oh, it's just stuff to eat and drink out of ... bone china is just made of old bones anyhow; don't worry about it... "
The china  metaphor was inspired by a lovely poem by -A- , entitled, Like Fine China.
Cast your ballot for your party's running mates
Strange bedfellows in Roman
**** compromising positions
Straining to see what once was
Their original clear-cut goal

(Even the hot sand of the
Sahara becomes cold at night).

Tarred and feathered goes the ideals
Run out of town on a rail of policy.

Politics of law
Politics of religion
Politics on every level

No real friend’s only polite interests.

Party politics in the bedroom
And church

Spinning ethics and morals
To be fit for desiccation
By whatever spider desires
To make their web in

Palace royal
Church pious
  Courtroom solemn 
Family room secure

Where only a sort of twisted gestalt
Applies and the lesser of two evils is
Often greater than the sum of the
Two--the package being more
Important than the contents.

All that
Is important is the law of the jungle.

Tone-up poser muscles
Groom rhetorical fur
Sharpen intimidation fangs

Demagogic rule being the rule of thumb
Firmly planted where the sun never
Shines because truth is exposed

Only in the light. Plans made in the
Nether regions of base instincts

Where the true nature
Of we humans reluctantly steps
Out of its ancient cage nightly to
Prowl only to return by morning to
Have pure and honourable melodies
Sooth the savage breast.

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
This speaks not only of governmental politics, nor of any particular politician, political party or nation. It is all about the danse politico of existence.
The last few dying leaves of autumn
Desperately clutching their sterile lifeline
Like a hopeful body preserved cryogenically

Refusing to give in to the inevitable
Season of death.

Congealed memories of

                          Long summers:

                           Warm breezes


Flowing freely in every vein
Assuming the promise of forever

And the more distant memories of spring:

                             New growth    
                             Bated breath

                         Each day savored    

(A whole year in the distorted
       Knowledge of the mature)

The youthful knowing that life is forever
Only to be lost one day
    In the distorted knowing of the mature.

The heavy frost of late Autumn  
Soon breaks the will
And the leaf is at the mercy of the winds–



                     Blowing aimlessly

Until the eventual fall to earth
Where it turns back into what it always was.

Yet one fine spring day




The youthful knowing that
Life is forever.

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
I was going to wait until late fall to post this, but since i use "leaves" and "Autumn " as metaphors, i don't think it really matters.
At the beginning
Was an open sea
Knowing nothing
But its own
Owning every
Beach it met
Not knowing enough to feel alone

After many
Long years it finds
There is much
More for to see
Inlets and outlets
On every shore
A sense of greater freedom to be free

The sea joined
To many rivers
Seeing land
On either side
Freedom then became
Just a memory
The river's end was not in sight

But along the way
An Ocean Watershed
Joining rivers to the sea
It had to sleep
In many river beds
To see what it was meant to be

Down in the river
Flowing headlong
To the sea
Joining the
River's rage
That is where
I long to go
That is where I am meant to be

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
An Ocean Watershed is a large basin, such as the Mississippi Basin & the St. Lawrence Great Lakes Basin, where rivers and streams end up in the ocean.
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