The rich man might just believe
He can buy all he ever wants
But he didn’t do it all alone
No matter how he flaunts.
The factory that bought him
His mansion and his yacht
Exists because he had plain folk
To build him what he’s got.

The litter bearers took him
Wherever he wanted to go.
The farmhands used their strength
To *** fields and make them grow.;
Mechanics and the engineers
Are who made his fine wheels turn.
So, why is this such a hard lesson
For the rich among us to learn?

Without us they are nothing,
Just overdressed blowhards
With rich antecedents and
A stacked deck of cards.
Not every poor person would
Know how to handle great wealth
But maybe could try if it weren't
For their talent and great stealth.

Something happens to rich people
When they deal with the poor.
They forget about their Bible
And what that teaching is for.
Some forget the Torah and
Yet others forget the Quran
As if those who speaks of decency
Are a political also-ran.

So I should be forgiven if I
Wish they fail at their work
And they have to toil in the field
Like those of us they call jerks.
I wish their wives had to
Patch their household clothes
Then pray the place they live in
Is not subject to be foreclosed.

We once had a government
That worked hard in our favor
To rescue us from carpetbaggers
But now they’re a much nastier flavor.
After almost a century of work
To build a nation for the common good
Programs are being thrown out by
A batch of Congressional deadwood.

Today, I feel extra heavy,
Each movement, taking more effort than normal.
My mind is feeling clouded,
A dense fog settling in every crevasse.
Today, I am tired.
Not the I-didn't-get-enough-sleep kind of tired,
But an exhaustion of the mind and body.
To describe how I feel, only two words come to mind,
"Chemical imbalance"
Two words that tell me that how I feel isn't real
It's only the result of my brain feeling sick.
But what if I'm truly just sad?
What if everything I feel is real?
The thing about what ifs is that they're sad
They're depressing.
Thinking of the things that could be,
What if things could be happier,
Or what if things could be worse.
And what if the thing wrong with my brain
Is just sadness, pure and simple.
Sadness could be fixed,
Sadness doesn't need medication.
But sadness could last forever.
A soul stuck in a world that it doesn't belong,
A place where it was never meant to be.
That's how I feel.
I don't belong.
I never belonged.
I am missing a part of me,
The part that fills the dark hole in my chest.
A hole that reminds me of loneliness,
No matter what, it'll always be there.
And maybe that's the cause of this
Chemical imbalance
The possible ****** up part of my brain.
The flaw that can be fixed with drugs.
The flaw that is my mind.
Maybe I'll be okay
But then maybe I won't.

Sorry, I got a li'l imbalanced with your uneven promises.

looking for the word
but will settle for a phrase
that adequately captures
the queasy but a little bit right and funny balancing act feeling
when you find yourself
agreeing with Mark Latham

@journeyofdays

When my dark clouds rise

And dirt clods fly and I try

In sheer panic to replace

Rotten fruit with dull wax fruit

And wilted blossoms with

Plastic flowers and she thinks we

Will be on yet another short-lived

But cold cycle of tightrope and

Eggshell walking . . .

She comes home


With bags filled with

Apples green & red

Peppers yellow & green & red

Grapes green & purple

Plums yellow & purplish-red

Strawberries, peaches, tomatoes

Bananas & Greek salads.

 
This usually inspires me to make

For this setting a centrepiece of a

Vase filled with a variety of fresh

Picked wildflowers which brings

Her more joy than two dozen

Of the overrated overachiever rose.


At times this seems like

One of  few bridges back

To a healthy & colourful world.  

 
            --Daniel Irwin Tucker

She stepped into the wall of steam,
Allowing the shower to unmake her
From her neck to her ankles.

Never her head, never her feet.

Her head was an exploding star
Full of simultaneous destruction and creation.
Constantly making, unmaking, and remaking.
Impossible to unmake something while it's being made and unmade and remade.

It's all chaos and kairos.

Her feet cannot be allowed to be unmade.
Even in the sanctuary of sweet oblivion,
There are miles to go yet.

Chaos and Kairos. That's all there is.

Automobiles and road rage
Alcohol and steering wheels
Texting and driving
The Military and U.S. Steel
Banks and mercy
Fashion and comfort
Priests and Godliness
Trade alliances and imports.

Republicans and The Constitution
Bigots and non-Caucasians
Christians and homosexuals
Unbalanced equations.
Elitists and human flaws
The rich and the poor.
Anger and loaded guns
You and the Jews next door.

They are naturally equal
But they’re exactly opposite
Sometimes they balance
But often there’s no sense to it.

Attorneys and justice
Lobbyists and compassion.
Science and the church
Trust and politicians.
Monsanto and private farms
Pipelines and ecology
Fracking and water rights
Minorities and majorities.

Hope and desperation
Citizen’s rights and Tea Party
Media and integrity
Politics and morality
Free enterprise and monopolies
Censorship and free press
Freedom of expression
And illegal social duress.

They are naturally equal
But they’re exactly opposite
Sometimes they balance
But often there’s no sense to it.

I don’t want anything for Christmas
Nothing you can put under the tree.
What I want cannot be purchased.
It can’t be wrapped up expensively;
It’s not about ribbons and silk bows
Or fancy paper laced with gold.
It’s all about what the world needs
And has needed since days of old.

It has to do with people crying
And begging for what they need.
It has to do with children starving
The victims of our nation’s greed.
Drive the streets and look around
And who has got and who has not.
Look at all the rich decorations
And at all the empty urban lots.

Ask yourself how this can happen
In the richest country in the world.
Shouldn’t there be food enough
For every single boy and girl?
And shouldn’t there be jobs enough
For every one who chose to toil?
What happened to good will to men?
Has that concept been left to spoil?

What I want for Christmas can
Be stated in a very simple way.
We should learn to pull together
To chase the imbalances away.
We have enough of our resources
To abolish hunger and poverty.
We can be a nation of compassion.
That is what I truly want to see.

I've got a devilish need.
That's only satiated by the planet's greed.
Power, real estate and money!
I need them all in a hurry.

I'll **** pillage and sully.
Any mans good fortune for my own.
You won't have any power.
Even when you're full grown.

Because I won the police.
In a poker match among the Rockefeller.
I've taken independence and authority.
Given it a sweet facade.

You'll love the news,
Even you'll be glued.
Stay stunned and stationary.
As we read disingenuously, your obituary.