Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Today is July 4, 2020. There is not much to celebrate. **** Trump leaves us in a Polynicean gloom. Fireworks remind me of wars. I would rather, and therefore will,  listen to Rachmaninov's PIANO CONCERTO NO. 2 tonight.
I will celebrate beauty rather than killing. And I will give thought to Antigone as well, for she willingly gave her life for doing what was right. I shall listen to Yuja **** arpeggiate notes. I will again become fixated both by her light-
ning dexterity and the glorious sounds to which she gives birth. Humankind has this dual potential:  it can either **** or care. So why, I ask myself, does it always choose the former? On this national holiday especially, why do we now not celebrate Thomas Paine and Walt Whitman and Harriet Tubman and Eugene Debs and Martin Luther King Jr.? We do we not collectively ask forgiveness for all the covert, sinister, malevolent interventions into the affairs of other nations, resulting in unjust overthrows and war crimes aplenty? Fireworks? July 4th? We did defeat the evil of ****** and his unspeakable genocide. Let us be sure to give unending thanks to all those who lost their lives in this moral victory. But Viet Nam? The lives of 58,000 American soldiers lost for the lies of our leaders? And Kissinger and McNamara and the Bushes and Cheney and so many others in our government never held accountable for their war crimes? And yet tonight we have fireworks instead of Nuremberg-like trials. Antigone knew she would die if she buried her brother, Polynices, and yet she went ahead and buried him and died for doing it. And the 4,000,000 blacks who were slaves in 1861 and the 500 indigenous nations that covered for centuries from sea to shining sea what we now call America--did they have anything to celebrate on this day, on this date? Fireworks, that's all.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2017
Once I disliked having birthdays
But I really don’t mind anymore.
The secret is to enjoy them
And never, ever to keep score.
Don’t bother counting them,
Just enjoy the cake and gifts.
It’s looking back at how old you are.
That is basically the ugly rift.

You’re not getting decrepit,
Not older than dirt, you see.
You have gained credit in life
For wisdom and longevity.
They who say you have aged
Like a fine wine are correct.
So, don’t harp about the years
Like you have a flaw to project.

Instead look forward in life
To what the future will say.
What will you do with it,
This new chance every day?
Will you be that aging statesperson
The world will be glad to know?
As long as you’re still breathing
Let's wait and see how it goes.

So, call all your friends up
And meet them each for a meal
And let them know fears of age
Are not something you find real.
Let them toast your birthday
And sing the traditional song.
Let this be another of many
Happy birthdays to come along.
Star BG Oct 2017
Under a canopy of sky
in sunny blue visions,
I dance

Celebrating the cool breezes
hugging my face.

The birds gracefully flying,
to align me with dreams.

Celebrating the sounds of
rolling waves at waters edge.

The birds, echoing
to bring my feet to dance.

Celebrating the moment,
as blessings gift me.

The Mountains that stand tall
to mirror my strength.

Under a canopy of light
I bow to all,
hoping my words
will touch,
                                                                ­    and inspire.
I saw the word canopy and this poem was born.
Star BG Jul 2017
In an airstream of breath, I rise.
Celebrating, moments that echoes with light.
Celebrating, birds who whisper daintily,
as dogs that romp with voice.

In an airstream of natures breeze, I rise
Dancing, in knowing I am divine.
Dancing, with puffy graceful clouds
as flowery smells open heart.

In an airstream present, I am free.
Free, to drift in grace anointing all.
Free, to remember  who I am
as all my precious dreams align.

Dreams that root,
in garden of an airstream breath.

StarBG © 2017
Cafiifa Jeylani Jun 2017
Ramadan flies by each year,
we follow the changes we see from the moon,
some years we have long nights and short days,
other times long days and short nights.
As soon as it ends we wish for it again.

The month of mercy... I hope I see you again.

Cafiifa Jeylani©
Eid Mubarak
Donna Jun 2017
I saw orange balloon
floating in sky , a child
gains another year
When in garden the other day I saw orange balloon in sky it made me think of my children on there birthdays when they were little :)
Austin Heath Jan 2015
Dive kicked off the aspirin,
overdosed on vitamin D.
Up all night, celebrating,
properly sober;
properly hydrated,
properly fed.

Stomach ache from experimenting foods,
sriracha on salad and chocolate and eggs
threw it all over everything like "HADOUKEN!",
there's information floating on the wind everywhere
and most of it is ***** and cats,
people saying, "hey" and "yo" and "whats up?"

And I'm addicted to Tom Waits,
and probably ***, and probably the internet,
and probably video games and thinking,
but thinking about offing myself.
Genesis does what nintendon't
and lately every modern gaming console
simply just www.WillNot.
I guess we're all fantasizing till we stop.

Also, punk and jazz will not mix well,
my grandfather wrote me from the grave
just to say so.
He says the rent isn't so bad,
but the landlord is the ******* devil,
although there's a room for me to move in.
I just might if I don't get medicated,
for right now I'm whimsical
and singing up and off key.

All these zombies are feeling my vibe
with their teeth and fingernails,
and affection never felt so good
from such a friendly crowd.
I don't get out much anymore,
I'm slipping into old habits
more often because I'm lonely
and melancholic and bored.

It's all right or whatever.
Illusory as this corporeal existence
        may be termed,
I am too glad sifting through
[This imagined existence of]
The interspaces of Time and Space.
Don’t need to be interceded for
To a space-less place-

The echoes of infinity
Tingle me, weaving infrasonic waves
Of life around me.

I can catch up with salvation
Some other day;
I'm here. Soaking in
The sun's tickle tingling me awake
The wind's whistle cooing on a dull day,
The patter of rains as it sings
A new rhythm into play.
A dog's wagging tail at my caress,
Smiles from faces familiar-unfamiliar,
Or a dance move I'd been tugging at to perfect.
Lapping up a home-cooked meal
After a long day, curling up in my bed.
Celebrating joys with an exultant jump
A high-five or a fist-pump,

Celebrating life more
Than fearing death.
A positive yet realistic take on life itself.
Amitav Radiance Jun 2014
In the garden of Humanity
Plant more bonhomie
Love will blossom
The landscape will change
Fragrance and love all around
Colors will blend, celebrating all
The celestial space will rejoice
As happiness knows no bounds
Ironatmosphere May 2014
I will take the knife you put in my back when I wasn’t looking
And push it through my flesh till it graces my heart
And nicks it just enough for the pain to come flooding out
Then I’ll paint you a portrait
Red with pain
And wrap it up with a bow on top
Because I would never forget your birthday
Or to congratulate you
As you grow one step closer to death
Because that is something that's actually worth celebrating
Next page