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•°• A Twisted Classic •°•

I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start
To burn what's left of your heart

You took my heart as my one desire
Now I hate you
For all you did and didn't do

I just don't seem to get enough of Your love
which is a matter I need to remind You of;
life in the world is not the best at this time
there is so much going on that's like crime.

The pandemic unleashed is still causing pain
though some people are finding ways to gain;
it seems human ingenuity comes to the fore
as channels are opened up for some to explore.
Written in early 2022.
The earth is changing
into a turbulent world
by man's heedlessness
A haiku written in late 2021.
Bang! I surely heard the graze of conflicting thoughts;
setting a battleground across their minds.
Every word was in a blaring tone, as every
negative word the world spoke of it; was its
quick and merciless first fire.

Bang! Shooting down the innocence of
young, innocence that was held an infant—
still it hadn’t stopped man from killing them
in an instant. A snap of  a camera, of every violent
act played on the news, following every instance.

BANG! The gun grew louder to the crime that was
deemed by fighting for resistance. And how so will we
ever find peace in a world, if all our actions leave it
in so many broken pieces?
Frank DeRose Apr 3
Sometimes it is hard to know how to forge

The news has never been good, but recently it seems increasingly bad.

The grass is still green here, mom.

But it's drowning in rivers of red there.
Dead and brown and gone in other words and
other worlds that are even
part of this

What are any of us to do?

How can any of us bear not to bear witness?
And in bearing witness,
How does any of us retain the strength to live as though all is normal when it is so painfully obvious that it is not
so painfully obvious
that this cannot possibly be considered normal
or that if it is considered normal
then it is so painfully obvious that it should not be
that we should not want to be part of a world where this is normal.

So I return again to the question of how
is any of us supposed to forge ahead in a world at war?

Sometimes I take comfort in the idea that this, too, is the human condition.
We are a communal species, but a species that has always been at war with itself.

Nation against nation, tribe against tribe, clan against clan.

The only difference now is the scale.
We have globalized and commercialized war in a way that people 200 years ago would have found incomprehensible.
We have COD-- excuse me,
COMMODIFIED is what I meant
it into video games and movies and bumper stickers of AK-47s and how
how I ask is any of us to press on in a world so on fire that cities are burning and children are lucky if we can pull them from rubble and somehow hope that they, too, will not later seek to wage the destruction they were born into and borne out of.

And yet still,
The grass is green here, mom.

I barely know how we can love this world.
I hope that maybe we can still manage to love inside this broken plane. The myth of a phoenix is a beautiful one. Born of the ashes made from fire in a world that cannot cease

Always we hope for rebirth.

Somehow we must find a way to love
something or someone or some place.

In a world where the grass is still green..
And hopefully,
can be green in otherwheres, too.

Grass does not grow if it is not watered.

And yet
we have poured a monsoon of kerosene on the plains of dead grass in a drought amidst famine.

Recall--god gave Noah the rainbow sign, said no more water, the fire next time!

What recourse do we have other than to love?

Love that which has burned
Love that which is not burned yet and which we hope to protect.

Love one another and hope against hope that this time,
Maybe this time

The grass will grow green there, too.
Cloud tendrils Jun 2021
Power is with those who hold it,
Regardless if they know it.
Hold a phone that connects
And amplifies your connections.

In the past human typicals only,
Now freed ideas exponential.
Everyone holds some code,
Just waiting to execute.

Five senses we hold,
Emotion not amongst them.
For those non-typical build,
Typicals already have built.

Another sense is here amongst,
Keep clicking, liking and we listen.
An internet non typicals built
Reflect away as you become like us.
Just revisited this and was trying to say how people who were once considered non-typical have now changed the world.
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