I refuse to participate
In this race
so corporate

Where nothing but competition rules
Where competitors
get thrown to hungry wolves

They call it survival of the fittest
And elimination
of the weakest


Competition they say breeds innovation
As if a creative soul
needs any confrontation!

They corrupt you with conviction
Of wealth, riches, fame and
instant gratification

They put a noose round your neck
With a cabin
enclosing your desk

You toil night and day
To keep
the wolves at bay

You die a little every day
Dreaming of things
to do your way

Only you can these fetters break
By doing what you love
Even if it is  for a smaller cheque

In the extra time that you have
Gaze at the world  
with wonder and awe

Go paint on a canvas, or weave a web of words
Or simply go watch
wild animals and birds

For when you finally go up for review
He will treat us all
with the same view

He
for sure
will ask

Did you laugh, did you cry
Did you
Your precious life enjoy?

I refuse to participate
In this race
so corporate

This morning,
I walked with god and man, and animal

I've come to believe,
no other possibility,
He denies me sleep
as His insurance policy

some One wants to be sure,
someone sees His sunrise poem,
He selected this ancien regi-man
to be His admiring audience,
with deer, squirrels, rabbits, a red fox, an osprey
always complaining, why do they get
the cheap seats

so up at five,
no jive,
gotta get there early,
for a good seat,
on the dock by his name

watch the color blue transgender
from feminine elegy elegant pale
to peacock royal male,
the water,
a contributing editor,
phases in with a steely grin,
with ermine whitecap hints
and an orange marmalade sky homage,
I cannot try to describe

and here is where man comes in...

as the tableau reveals a still life
come to be,
a painting enlivened,
come to me free,
bursting with
effervescence and
animal life tribunes,
paying on...

strange...

my Pandora app
back to back,
plays for me
Gershwin's Rhapsody In Blue,
hard upon it comes
Saint-Saëns's
The Carnival of the Animals

and I
enfeebled amateur,
needy for a
word titan Titian,
can think only
this trite thought:

I know not who is the
instrument and who
is the
artist,
but virtuous us,
We, all, now-capital-buddies,
now, all, well-color-capitalized,
god and man and animal,
crooning a chorus of appreciation

let this "accidental" miracle,
this collaboration,
enthuse me,
to live happily
with anticipation
for just one more day...

June 2014

You paint your
Skin with false
Perfections

Hiding the marks
That you think
Are flaws

But I think
There's no need
To paint your skin

Because those "flaws"
Make you beautiful

A new day is born but the sun still sleeps
The room is dark, the curtains closed
A familiar kettles whistle calls me from my dreams
Of climbing hills on summer days

The whistle becomes a silence that stirs me from my warm cocoon
Of blankets piled on blankets
I feel the bite of jack frost as i tip toe from my room
Arms wrapped tight to hold the chills at bay
The glow from mothers lamp calls to me

The bed so big and welcoming I snuggle and wait
Wrapped now in mothers warm embrace
Father climbs the stairs, boots heavy, tea hot
And sweet, one for mother, one for himself
None for me
But that's the best part
I watch him lovingly, waiting, hoping, not knowing

Then the moment, the wonderful moment
He hands me the cup, can't drink it all
Would I help him finish it?
I smile, that happy, yummy, sweet tea smile
Its mine now, as it always is in the end

Then with a kiss he is gone, into the dark
His day begins, his walk is long, the tea will help sustain
I hug the cup it warms my small hands
I drink the nectar in two big gulps
The sugar kisses my lips and again I smile
That sweet tea smile