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The Fire Burns Jun 2020
I can write in free verse,
I can write in rhyme,
I enjoy drinking beer,
I enjoy drinking wine.

I can write things abstract,
I can write things concrete,
I can write things unsaid,
I can write things complete.

I cannot solve your problems,
I cannot cure your pain,
I cannot stop the sun,
I cannot stop the rain.

I cannot heal your virus,
I cannot heal the hate,
I cannot seal the chasm
only you can pick your fate.
The Fire Burns Jun 2020
We’re tired of the ‘Rona,
the numbers keep on rising,
no one is sure if they are true,
but wearing masks they’re still advising.

We’re tired of the Race Bating,
all the colors can be friends,
but with looting and riots,
there seems to be no end.

We’re tired of law enforcement,
always under attack,
they are here to help all of us
red, brown, yellow, white or black,

We’re tired of the politics,
the far left and the distant right,
a house divided can never stand,
and now mostly out of spite.

We’re tired of offending,
with everything we say,
grow some thicker skin,
or shut up and go away.

We’re tired of the flag burning,
if you don’t like it here then leave,
go back to where you came from, or where you want to be
when you’re gone, just know, that none of us will grieve.

We’re tired of the media lies,
about all these things,
pouring gasoline on the fires,
and tugging all our strings.
The Fire Burns May 2020
Strangled thoughts ricochet around,
screaming silence muted sound,
lost inside the synaptic pulses,
like a myriad of combined song versus.

My feet move unbidden,
to only sounds that are hidden,
deep inside my skull and brain,
falling on me like gentle rain.
The Fire Burns May 2020
The changing tides fling me around,
all I hear are ocean sounds,
churning and changing my direction,
mostly against my discretion.
The Fire Burns May 2020
Nights gossamer gown now burned away,
I sit and look across a field of hay,
in the distance, deer now feed,
I wonder where this day will lead.

The coffee with its own cream clouds,
fuel, the thoughts of screaming crowds,
but for now, I am here alone,
sitting on my back porch throne.
The Fire Burns May 2020
Sanitoriums of the past,
the ghost in my lungs,
slowly eating me from the inside.
TB
The Fire Burns May 2020
The every inside everything consumes me,
anxious paranoia has set in,
deep breathing no longer helps,
but I go on anyway.
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