the choppers blades
unaware
the cleansing of color

twist in the wind
like the means of unfit mothers
champions
of unfounded snare

who's revolution
of her weighted intent
should be held to account
when justness is spent

the judges, juries
and executioners trail
hovering the bluster
as appellants flail

<------------->

the choppers blades
unaware
the cleansing of color....

red green blue
converge to white
reveal what's true
ever of spite

yellow red blue
diverge from white
expressed in color
received in grey
or the other way

yellow red blue
converge to black
yellow cyan magenta
follow suit

reflection refraction
doppler shift

wave and photon
linger the grift

a medley of mange
this group of misfits
laughing dancing
and grazing the strange

unconventional freaks
outlandish and odd
parroting our priests
and glib of our gods

mocking our trials
poking fun of our kings
curating our flaws
as they jump and sing

bent and dimented
indignant to drones
lippy and pert
these rolling stones

theater people

belief is a box
open at the top
but still you stand

conscious like rocks
atoms like fear
lay tight
of change so
still you stand

aware the nuance of life
cannot be explained in one breath
so still you stand
... in the box

fear no love
love no war
right no left
hawk no dove

red no blue
black no white
tone no tint
wrong no right

stop no go
drop no lift
seek no hide
wind no drift

echo will respond
harvest to seed
bird will egg
and life will go on

***** through the tube
baby to the ****

instant mobility
of the noob

shuttle to the moon
rocket to mars

life is motion
under the stars

scanning from my perch
staring out the window pane

imaging my path, a quiet place
visioned the trail
i have followed in vain

i to the right
as the herd left

did i hold back
or stand in judgement
above the rest

still hunting a clue
while guarding the line

what is there that i might find

survey from my grave
peering out the window pane

could i have seen
beat, circumspect

the window a mirror
and i my reflect

sitting at my desk
writing a haiku at work
i am not working

see that man

its that man there

happy in his world
but lonely in his vines
his smile lights the room
but pains in his eyes

in a world of me me me
benevolent to the core
he listens instead
but shows no bore

that man over there
humane to the bone
but the banner of his vision
is waved by him alone

watch him and see
the man who fell
looking again
that man is me

dont be mistook
misguided or mislead
the man thats me
could be you as well

rave to the rolling hills
lit with the warmth of dawn
and the rich warm orange of dusk

respect to the souls
who pain to see
the beauty in rust

blithe to the imaginations
who seek a higher call
armed with the courage
of original thought

thanks to you
who climbed the hill
and found the charm

you
the one
who’s seen
the hills at dawn

ten thousand times
you repeat the line
mine is the lucky number

what is real what is true
just what we perceive
like the collective views
the sky is blue

a linear eccentric
quips from the hip

i never have but
she will soon

arc a phrase
tell a truth
perpetuate a lie

but right on time
the real is revealed
with the curve of your words
you bark at the moon

willful ignorance
history repeating
head in the sand
the leaders are cheating

from the left and right
the view is the same
perception is truth
for the man to game

rich and poor
black and white
the blue and the red
prepare and fight

swinging the sword
but dismissing the pen

it’s already been fought
and assessed by them

but we ignore the words
and twist the tale
so that we can continue
to fight the whale