It’s a firework holiday,
so let’s light up the night,
wave the stars and stripes,
eat barbecue and drink bud light.

We’ll celebrate the liberties
that SCOTUS says we’ve got
it appears they’ve all been bought
and before their terms are over
they’ll resurrect Dred Scott.

Watermelon, hot wings
we’ve even added new things,
like smash & grab lootings
and frequent, random shootings.

Some Republicans want to break away
to form a less perfect union
can you form a successful nation
based on the politics of illusion?

There used to be parades
I’m told, that featured local
things, like firefighting brigades
I guess we’re just to fractured now,
to sashay in such displays.

I bet those were the days.

My shoulders are heavy
I feel tired and heavily laden
My doorbell always ringing
Never a moment of rest

The weight of the world on my shoulders
All of the issues, problems and cares
Knocking my head against the wall
Violence and noise all around me

The troubles of the world burning me out
Fires all around me
Firefighting all day and night
My head up in smoke

When will I breathe clearly again?
When shall the problems cease?
When shall the smoke disappear?
When will the fires die out?

Who will carry my own weight?
Who will extinguish my own fires?
Who will dry out my own tears?
Who shall rescue me in my hour of need?

It was raining on us, like a cartoon,
just us, and it was hard to hide
when we got outside, as it dumped.

Yet still, no one noticed— which was nice—
when we were sitting
soaking wet in class.

Clear the little storm cloud from your head.
The world doesn’t work that way,
but as sure as water— vapor or droplet—
falls from the laws of physics,
the pilot of a helicopter
could park his firefighting *** right on top of us.

I couldn’t blame him, we burned like wildfire,
but I can still hate him for shouting,

“Told ya it wouldn’t work out!”

In truth, I know naught. Why I am so sad?
It worries me; you say it wearies you.
In lieu of times much simpler much happier;
sandbox wars, creaking swings, afternoon swims
we’ve essays, tutorials and internships,
then sales meetings, social events and the
occasional blind date. Entwined by work
and a distinct loneliness, we clutch at
fragile things, irrational whims; silence
rings a mutual suffering. So bring me
back to bygone days, revisit the ways
you raced me to the pool, we crafted sand-
castles, walls higher than Jack’s bold bean-
stalk, we tried coaxing winds to whistle as we
reached our toes to touch the sky, to dream of
walking the moon, firefighting, saving
animals, or even following Tom
Sawyer into his cave in search of gold.
So, darling, take me back to the past, what
gilded sands of time cannot quite bury,
to reclaim the lost innocence of a
spotless mind, to relive a time when life
was not measured by schedules, to regret
ever saying: “I can’t wait to grow up”

I live between church and society
never entering either entirely
I go to church and sing with God in me
but each memorable melodic monody
sounds increasingly odd to me
when there are only flaws I see.

Last night I had a horrid dream
I was with my worship team
when their worship scheme
resembled war ship steam.

It seemed like a normal service
but tonight we had special guests
the kind that can afford to purchase
every bell and whistle, nothing less.

I was to be their guide on tonight's spiritual ride
I trailed them like their extravagant robes
wishing to be someone people flock to in droves
but all I have are my words
and the Holy Spirit
so I sing like a bird
with radio interference.

Despite my best intentions of making a good impression
the service was a disaster in need of a master
unchecked videos wouldn't work
preplanned cues were missed
responsibilities were shirked
and I was ******.

My worship team started complaining
in a manner I found to be draining
because my must-see team of trusty steeds
had morphed into prima donna demon llamas
passing the buck and saying "that *****".

Under our Jesus painting
a sight has shanked me
a fire breaking
through our mistaking.
When the fire is small
it's no big deal
but once it grows tall
it becomes real.

We all had to evacuate
for firefighting to actuate
our realization of facts too late
that we'd failed a task too great.
I take my family to the church attic
away from all the stampede traffic
I think up there we can hack it
and look at the area impacted.

The sanctuary is a giant ember
yet dripping wet
I want to return to sender
fire grips me best
and grows at my behest
an emerging inferno infects
the sanctuary's rest.

Understanding danger
I escape with my family
outside with strangers
who all stand with me
we cry over spilt ilk
and brick that wilts.

But people toned down their tears
and stifled their sobs
like silencing fear
was their only job
so as the church was mourned
a makeshift line was formed
to consign Satan's scorn
and be alive and born.

They lined down the street
a church without seats
they still needed to speak
and seek out the meek.
They started praying together
praying for healing
not for the church to be better
but each other's feelings
their friends that were reeling
still needed the word so appealing.

I look back at the church
but I don't see it there
I don't lament its worth
or complain it's unfair
I save my despair
for those that need care.
A humble abode has replaced the opulent cathedral
where the ****** of the masses once found its needle
now there's a house that's meek like the women inside
could this be the house by which God wants me to abide?
I open the doors
and walk right in
I can feel in my core
the removal of sin.

We started the year carrying such great fear,
So many folk needing to don firefighting gear.
Prescious lives were lost amid the cruel fire,
Wildfires wreak havoc on the already dire.

Then out of the flames, love and giving arise,
Many dig deep in their pocket amid the demise.
Selfless firefighters thanked for work via songs,
Turning away from the any governing wrongs.

When in the background away from our soil,
In a distant setting, a virus comes to the boil.
It becomes very serious, they are all locked up!
Nothing in or out, but too late, it will erupt.

Travelling via people on planes and on ships,
So many laughing and enjoying their last trips.
But alas, soon laughter gives way to our fears,
Once again we are worried and brought to tears.

This virus catches up to most every world shore,
No matter your status, the rich and the poor.
Become infected with this Russian Roulette,
Who will survive this, but who will it get?

We pray for our future as this Covid unfolds,
So much sickness that dear lives will be sold.
The Doctors and Nurses fighting for our lives,
Most will recover but so many won't survive.

We must look to our future after all this is done,
Our brave new world won't resemble the old one.
Move forward we must, with plans at the ready,
We will hold hands together, strong and steady.