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where are the times
when people could rely
     more or less
on what their leaders
     whom they had elected
spoke and did?

when there was yet no need
to fact-check every other sentence
of presidential self-appraisals
or denigrating tweets about opponents?

after three years of suffering
through all shenanigans of the most blatant kind
it seems that rudeness, ignorance, and lies
have quietly become accepted as new normal

we've learned that people we elected
     to fight for our cause
can say one thing
     and then the opposite
throw in a lie or two
and nobody complains
or votes them out of their coveted offices

in fact
thanks to the wonderful examples of our leaders
we now have learned to distrust everybody
even ourselves

eight billion plus of unreliables
Apropos the recent appalling B-movie production in the U.S. Senate re: impeachment of Donald J. Trump
two hundred years ago
   or so
this title might have read
"America", etc.,

according to the myth
that then was strong
and still exotic
   and promising to aliens
with no experience

today, after Wounded Knee, the Trail of Tears,
the Civil War, the Restoration, all the lynchings,
after Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, Nicaragua,
the Gulf, Iraq, Afghanistan,Lybia, Syria & cetera,
Ferguson, Baltimore, & cetera,
"America" has disappeared

it has, in fact, become quite evident
that to subsume the continent
   on the far side
       of the Atlantic or Pacific
   with this name
will do no more

   in truth, it rarely ever did

the mythic notion
   of a just and free society
was definitely buried at My Lai,
Panama City, on the desert plains
of Kurdistan, the Baghdad prisons,
    and Guantanamo
by racist violence & arrogance
   and pitiful ideas of white supremacy

   the usa today lies bare
   of the old promise of 'America'

street people, rampant fundamentalists,
drugs, and low employment rates,
in a society that longs
   despite its cherished myth
   of tough but honest competition
for holy war in order to rebuild with profit
   what it has destroyed with arms

that, to all evidence, cares not
a penny's worth for
   the unbuildable
   which never shows in the domestic census
or for the lives of others but their own brave boys
   preferably white
who have in recent years
      though with increasing discomfort
upon appointment by their country's presidents
achieved the dreary fame
   of bombing back into the stone age
distant lands that had
    just barely begun
to make it out from there

           * *
in great distress
    I must confess
that I consider it a dreary mess
Dear Joe must elevate himself again
beyond his aging frame
just to distract us from the shame
his party can't come up with a new name
for the elections

we know that old men
often are considered wise
yet would it not be better to allow
some younger candidates to rise?

the leading democratic superpower
is unable to present more
       qualified
candidates than two octogenarians?

I worry
sometimes I wonder if the time we use
trying to understand the world
by listening to all the media
might not be better spent
with talking to our neighbors
in the pub next door
over some hearty food
     a pint of beer
just let the permahype of news
dissolve with a good joke
and a nice glass of wine
that makes the friendly spirits shine
a vague thought
struggling to become clear

what was it I actually
wanted to say

complain about the world
its crazy politics
neverending wars
   
global warming
that seems to be
on few politicians’ mind

the pandemic that is endemic
but which some so-called leaders
still try to ignore

the bizarre concept of
authoritarian democracy
????????????????????

polar bears starving
island flooded by rising seas
forest fires more than ever

oh - my thought has cleared now

ALL OF THE ABOVE!
a shop sells spirits and flowers
for Valentine's and Ballantine's
it's owner's face quite happily shines
different from TV
the shapes of waves and fire
never repeat themselves
no dead birds in the oven
no innards in the stuffing
nor fatty drippings to be scraped and poured

the smell of roasted veggies
wafts through  the wintry air
pumpkin and sweet potatoes
marshmallows  green beans  lentils
turnips  & collard greens
hashed browns & black-eyed peas
quinoa  sorghum cuscus hummus
carrots  leak  broccoli Romanescu
gumbo in southern regions
wild rice dishes in the north
tastily spiced with turmeric
cumin and baked paprika
Indian curry  soy sauce  chipotle
as well as with the usual suspects
of garlic  salt  and pepper
and whatever fits the taste of hosts

in short
a venerable feast to demonstrate
how nature feeds us a large cornucopia
of plants for our delight and sustenance

in short
no need to **** a bird

                * *
no dead birds in the oven
no innards in the stuffing
nor fatty drippings to be scraped and poured

the smell of roasted veggies
wafts through  the wintry air
pumpkin and sweet potatoes
marshmallows  green beans  lentils
turnips  & collard greens
hashed browns & black-eyed peas
quinoa  sorghum cuscus hummus
carrots  leak  broccoli Romanescu
gumbo in southern regions
wild rice dishes in the north
tastily spiced with turmeric
cumin and baked paprika
Indian curry  soy sauce  chipotle
as well as with the usual suspects
of garlic  salt  and pepper
and whatever fits the taste of hosts

in short
a venerable feast to demonstrate
how nature feeds us a large cornucopia
of plants for our delight and sustenance

in short
no need to **** a bird

                * * *
thinking of things to put to verse
   in times that often are adverse
   to topics that involve the universe
   and other serious matter
is difficult

world politics is quite atrocious
the culture scene no less ferocious
and so if you are somewhat cautious
in your choice of themes
few are left

you might start out with poised pen
for something serious & pertinent - but then
you have a quite inspiring moment when
you realize what truly is important
in our lives

just find the words
others can understand
our classic tales of war and victory
tell stories of substantial gains
in land, human resources, treasures,
from Homer, Cesar, Charles the Great,
to Ghengis Khan, Napoleon,
the Spanish, then the British empires, etc.

today, dictators are delighted over victories
whose gains are endless miles of rubble
      shown on television
devastated cities bombed into oblivion
     that will take decades to rebuild
     and populate again
hundreds of thousands people killed
     mostly women, children, and the elderly
     who could not flee in time

how can one who has been the source
of so much suffering and devastation
     harvesting bombed-out cities
     laced with corpses
claim victory?!
you see a video in which
the bad guys hold the floor,
   where helpless people die
a dime-a-dozen death

and you forget
it is just a magnetic tape or disk
has brought these figures
to their nameless destiny

the bad guys may be amiable actors
   privately

in your illusion's grip
these people really die
and you
   do nothing
for their lives, their souls

not even push
   the saving button
   on your remote control

              * *
dusk fell upon us softly
   between kisses
that probed and went
across the borders
into the other´s land
   to find it strange
yet pleasant
and a little frightening

the whistle for retreat
   was blown
and we went out for dinner
but soon grew restive
to resume the wanderings
on each other´s turf

your girlish coyness
made me hesitate
lest a wrong move
turn me into a frog that
   thrown against the wall
   would not change
      into a prince

I hid within my robe

your loving body
hard up against mine
   felt beautiful
your kisses and caresses
   roused my blood

your loving trust
   shaken, at times,
   by my exploring touch
made me feel very young
and very old at once
   it was not easy
   to maintain control

we walked the tightrope
   through the night
your innocence protected you as well
   as my experience and respect
for your determination
   not to lose yourself

   and not to join me
   at that time

our entanglement
between desire and restraint
was long and yet too short
dawn found us puzzled
   words were scarce

the parting kisses
   sweet and sad
left memories

unrefreshed

to this very day

     * *
invisible
yet possibly deadly
it empties streets
makes us quarantine
cities  regions  nations
hits us unprepared
reminds us that pandemics
can also happen in our time

a few days ago I walked downtown
a strange quietness filled the air
made me react to noises and sounds
I had not even noticed
when streets were full with people and cars

     even the wail of distant ambulance sirens
     sounded louder and more ominous

I only saw occasional joggers
a few women airing their pet dogs
more bicycled food deliveries than usual

they hardly acknowledged my existence
glances did not meet
my friendly nods were rarely returned

we have all become solitary strangers
keeping their safe distance
pandemic quietness emptiness distance strangers
whatever happened to the quiet time
of advent before Christmas day or eve
is certainly remarkable

no other time of our year
has managed to become so  noisy,
commercialized, stuffed full of special sales
with permahyped unique occasions
that only last for a few hours

Black Friday has become national hysteria day
people camping out overnight before the supermarkets
to be the first  
     waving on television
diving into the pool of wonderful things on sale
victoriously placing them under their Xmas trees

the stress this timely acquisition
requires from the donors
just adds another extra to the planning of their days

no time is left for quiet contemplation

and so
what used to be the day to celebrate the birth
of our Christian savior
has turned into a goods exchange
where size and value of bright packages
are meant to substitute
affections muted by the daily chores

maybe a more spiritual mood
might take us back to the original wonder

a legendary birth in that old world of yonder
you want to build a wall
to make it high and tall
to keep them out
them all
you fear because they call
with different voices
different words
wear different clothes
in brighter colors
have darker skin  
and
who knows
may have darker souls within

and you don‘t see
they only flee
from terror and lethal poverty

desperately hoping
that the Statue of Liberty
still remembers her promise
whether sweet or salty
it is the mother of life

no matter whether you are
    Darwinist or Creationist
water as a source of our existence
    you cannot deny

so, what do we do
with this essential gift of nature
except drink it and float on it?

we waste it, pollute it,
in general,
we simply don’t appreciate it

at least those of us
who live in the comfort zones
     of regular rainfall
     advanced sanitary installations
     and drinkable tap water

millions of others
depend on their lives
for water from the sky
    or from the sea

re-appreciating water
taking care of it
may save the lives
of our children

they are our future
putting on tiles
in the tiny kitchen
of his lover´s apartment
   in Paris
that belonged
to a friend of hers
   he felt
like building a house
in the middle of the Seine
starting with the second
floor
a morning breeze draws gentle ripples on the sea
    dancing and glittering in the sun
at times more serious wrinkles
on the puckered surface indicate
strong deeper currents down below
moving unseen

shaping the everchanging faces
of our oceans all across the globe
creating scenes of terror and of beauty
    leaving us breathless
wondering about the plenitude
    nature brings forth
    often in frightening abundance
that occupies our lives
it is
one of the tantalizing
   fascinating traits of life
that in its myriads and myriads
   of shapes and images and truths
   nothing is certain

nothing
   to still our desire
   for knowledge definite

even the certainty of death
   evokes yet more vague expectations

we do not know
where we go
when we leave this world
weariness of the bones
often
entails that of the soul

each in itself
can be enough
to make you crave
a friendly touch
  a word of love

when both compound
and there is none
  of the above
your heart grows heavy
   as a leaden pound
sunshine goes pale
rain turns into a flood
your soul turns cold
   and shivers
with the absence
of a loving sound
it is a lovely sunny summer day
and yet the atmosphere feels different

as if a chilling haze had cast a net
over the luscious green of nature
darkened the pond‘s bright sparkles
made flowers droop their faces to the ground
trees sway their branches somberly
people look strangely serious

I guess it is the news that reaches us
along the ether waves
feeds our mobile phones  tvs  and radios
all about deaths  corruption  wannabe dictators
catastrophies  lack of support

no wonder the views of our world
are rather solemn
even on the brightest days
it seems we got it wrong
in reverse
man made god in his own image
we shall not leave this world alive
as we’ll discover at the end of our life

yet even though we know all that
we still cannot imagine being not
to leave your allies
who helped you achieve
your often-boasted victories

unprotected

against their well-known
overpowering enemy
is abominable betrayal

a crime most foul!
On the occasion of the U.S. American betrayal of the Kurds in Syria who were instrumental to reduce IS - now rising again thanks to the Turkish-US "deal."
Killing in the name of whatever god is always wrong!
A variation on the closing lines of my poem TRUMPETEERS
some say
the world is out of kilter

others predict
that things are always getting worse
and humankind is doomed
to some terrible  
    though unspecified  
fate

yet others see the second coming
of their god within their lifetime

    somehow
    ‘no future’ seems to be
    the fashion of the day

what if
     rather than just complain
     about how wrong things are
     feel sorry for ourselves
     and conjure up the end of our days
we take some action
don’t leave decisions in the hands
     of corporations and ‘professionals’ and the 1%
    of politicians who are puppets
    of lobbyists and billionaires

what if
     the 99% wake up and cast their votes
     in their own interest
rather than that of candidates
     who eloquently advocate
     simple solutions for complex problems
     showing
          without knowing it
     that they really have no clue
     what they are talking about
    
what if
     we decide to elect leaders
     who actually drink the water they are preaching
     who after they’re elected also walk their talk      
     stick to their programs
     keep their promises
     to make
           with our help
    the world a better place

what if ……
Somehow, lately poems on ths site have been a bit too defeatist & depressed  .... democracy, equality, peace are never safe and ALWAYS everybody's effort to be maintained!
If people step on my toes
I kick their shins
Step toes kick shins
the poet is a fragile me
that longs to gain eternity
by power of the word

the greatest fear is that
no poet but a nerd
    who cuddles into words
    and there gets lost
is what is heard
    outside this world of letters
and at the most
can claim illusions
    that may better
    the understanding of a verse
    of all the meaning it conveys
    the sorrow pain concern and love

and then again
    as said above
what reaches out beyond
     the mind that spins these notions
     of love and other great emotions
may just appear
as nothing but a comma
    in the ocean
    of words around the globe

that’s what we poets fear
Be careful what you wish for - you may get it.
when I hear you
say my name
I feel like jumping
over all words
to hold you close
I do enjoy to stretch my legs
upon the couch
watch TV, listen to the radio
make lists of things to do
on the next day
or read some book or magazine

I  wonder sometimes
    just a little bit
about achievements of the day

and also
for how long
this routine might continue
when my time comes
it comes
and I will gladly leave
to those who go on living
the task of sorting out
the mess I have accumulated
over years

let them discover
not only the stamp collection
the bank accounts
but also unknown niches
of their father’s/friend’s/husband’s life
the words unspoken
scribbled on some paper
thoughts never shared
for lack of time or opportunity
the letters to a friend of yore
emails to many people
hints of potential
love affairs that maybe never happened
ideas to change the world
into a better place

here I am
  now with a 7 before my years
envisioning life after death

a sign of vanity
perhaps
or an expression of despair

I am not sure

it may just be
the fleeting thoughts
on a clear winter evening
when cold creeps slowly
but insistently
into your bones

reminding you

   of all that cold space
   in our universe
   how it grows larger by the second

making you wonder
if it has a plan
and if that plan
includes you
speculating
about your destiny

        * *
when we consider
    in one of the rare quiet moments
    of our hurried hectic times
what keeps us busy throughout all our days
we may discover that there is not much beyond quotidian chores
    that occupies our schedule
the job,  career, the family, the children
     mow the lawn, chat with the neighbors,
     go to worship,  bowling,  Sunday school
     etc., etc.

small time we give to figuring out the meaning of it all

what is it that we want
    when we have reached the peak of our career
    when our kids have left the house
     live elsewhere without need for our care
what is it that is left
    to strive for and achieve

pragmatically speaking
it may be useful to become alert
and contemplate such matters
    alongside our busy years
at least some time before
we find ourselves
close to the edge
that points us into different spheres
we do so
without rationale

we feel
we cannot live
without the other

the cosmos will collapse
if s/he does not
reciprocate in kind

and in our hearts
a brilliant future blooms

whether it rains
or not
we do not mind

nor do we care
about wars' usual body counts
and the disastrous global news

when we love
we do so
in wild abandon

just for us

       * *
Don’t leave your home.
Don’t cross thresholds and borders.
The boats are bottomless.
Even if the sea does not swallow you
and you find dry land,
your heart will be broken.

You thought the softness
of your flesh would protect you.
You’ll be lost in the crowd of foreigners.
You’ll be no one, a number
in their eyes, cool with mistrust.
Your high cheekbones won’t remind
anyone of your grandmother’s
and your name stripped of its meaning,
pebbles on the tongues of strangers.

You’ll lose your ground.
Grammar of the new language will riddle
your bones, hipbones and spine
won’t align to sit on earth.
You’ll long for the scent of jasmine and bread.
You’ll miss the gold fish in the garden.
You’ll forget the names of trees and flowers.
You’ll lose the key to your house.

There is no refuge, no sanctuary.
The boats are bottomless, vessels
to extermination center of the sea.
Stay where you are,
where you know the color of the hills
in winter, spring, summer and fall.
Esther Kamkar lives in northern California. Of her poetry, she writes: “What was is over with and what is, the poems tell us.” See more at www.estherkamkar.com
a whiff of green

promising to bring back
the god old coal mining jobs
drilling and fracking for oil
on federal land
loosening pollution standards

does not really jive
with sudden claims
to work for the purest air
and the best crystal clear water
of the whole world

yet another pathetic attempt
by a pathological liar
to make facts
fit his egomaniacal fictions

that whiff of fake green
does not smell good
you think that everything
is under control

that you have planned with care
and great consideration

then suddenly
some miscommunication
plus incidental elements

throw in a solid wrench
that reveals
how fragile
the strands of finely woven plans
will always be
when we remember
what the times have been
that made us into what
    and who
    we are today
we travel deep into our past
to hear our mother’s voice
our father’s not so friendly gripes
when we fouled up a task he gave to  us

our friends, our teachers, our loves
whose interactions shaped
who we eventually have become  
while we believe that we have always been
     so independent and  autonomous

it may be worth a moment to reflect
     upon the influences
     we are inclined to casually neglect
and recognize the fact
     that we are always part
     of that great whole
     which we so desperately try
     to disavow for individuality

only to recognize a few years later
the minimal common denominator

life is a wonderful excursion into space and time
always surprising, turning on a dime,
leaving us puzzled well unto the end
always intent to look beyond
the next bend of the river …….
that over millenia
major religions have advocated peace
their adherents have been slaughtering each other    
     supposedly in the name of their assorted gods
more than any other known species

why is it
that in my maturity
(which people usually call old age ...)
I‘m getting so *******
with politicians who seem not to see
the obvious solution to a problem
but find elaborate fake excuses
just so they can get re-elected

why is it
that for Europe it‘s so difficult
to find a way for refugees to be accepted
with respect and  dignity

why is it
that the USA apparently forgets it‘s been the country
living off its (il)legal immigrants for centuries
and now simply ignores the words
they put onto their Statue of Liberty

why is it?!??
I just watched
a documentary about
the first female winner
of the Nobel Peace Prize

      1905

      Bertha von Suttner

why is it

115 years later
still so difficult
to make peace?
sometimes I wonder why I bother
to force myself to tell an other
what are my feelings and opinions

why do I struggle to attempt to phrase
words that inhabitants of faraway dominions
might also understand and not erase
an alien text for lack of recognition
of what it tries to say

is it just egomaniacal vanity
born of conviction that my words
are so important that only nerds
would not appreciate the wisdom
inherent in my thoughts

or is it logorrhea   the pathological obsession
to spew forth words without control
and flood the world and every living soul
with streams of incoherent syntax without meaning

I guess I write in order to communicate and share
exchange ideas across all boundaries
learning the thoughts of many different people
and in the process become even more aware
how much we share and have in common

carrying away once more the recognition
that division has always been
      and still remains until this day
the favorite tool of greedy politicians
against which poets   firmly   should hold sway
your presence in me
my presence in you
when we tear at each other
in anger and despair
hurts terribly

signs of love and hate
collide
spawning wild words
hard feelings
dark bitterness
escalating

until I remember
that we found each other
miraculously
in this world

forgive me

I love you
fierce
   fierce
blows the wind
   across this island
   off the coast of Africa
  
sittting on the ***** of a volcano
I keep listening to the sound of things

street signs clatter to each other
empty beer cans roll noisily
   through midnight streets
doors keep slamming
   to make their presence known
plastic bags hiss airily
and fly away
   like they never thought
   they could

the ears
of the little dog that thinks
   I am his master
stand at odd angles
while he is grooming himself
   on my lap

warm bodies
in a blustery place

the patio chair
   scrapes its way
   across the tiles
   inch by windy inch

my wine slushes in the glass

I share fiesta music
   from half a mile a way
   coming to me
   in gusty fragments
and almost feel the rush
   of low clouds chasing each other
   under a star-studded sky

here I am
on the ***** of a volcano
listening to the sounds of the world

                  * *
courting the sun
  after a cool June
  in my vintner's garden
close to the southern border

carefully sipping
  his latest selection
    a good year
    you can taste it

looking out from the hill
  across the river valley
  I listen to his children
  proudly telling how
only yesterday
  they filled 50 sandbags
just in case

the deafening roar
  of an interceptor jet
  splits the air
    just for seconds
    leaves my wine glass
    trembling
  
three helicopters
  slash their way south
  and come back later

over the winding road
  on the next hill
  the last tank of the column
   disappears

we can hear
  not far away
      over there
  sounds like explosions

we enjoy the sun

Helmut opens another one
  of his treasured bottles
  and tells me
  what he will do
  if They come across
  
   he is a good hunter
and an excellent shot

I sip the clear wine
  watch how the sunlight
  lends its brilliance
  to the half-filled glass  

I feel a little bit
  like Humphrey Bogart
  in the wrong movie.
Near the Slovene border in southern Austria at the beginning of the war in former Yugoslavia, 1992.
rainstorms fiercely bulge the waves
toss honeysuckle and bougainvilleas
blow their blossoms high
towards the rainbow
that in sunny moments
sparkles over volcanic hills
when winter is saying goodbye
our nature prepares for a high
all juices start flowing
the farmers start sowing
but the snowmen are beginning to cry
the lure
of the full moon’s light
in a frosty December night
is almost irresistible

it beckons to you
its pale radiance
   casts deep shadows
   full of unknown possibilities
that grow by the moment
and struggle to turn into words
   trying to grasp the cosmos
   the mystery of life

   amazing how the mere reflection
   of the sun’s brilliance
   can affect one so

it seems to ask you
to set a cool-hearted deed
make definite decisions
explore the blueprint of the universe
turn into a werewolf
dance with the dead

you look at the glimmering stars
   dotting the darkness
   left by the moon

delayed messengers
always too late

even with the speed of light
they only make us
   see the past
   mistake it for the present
   and build our future on it

the thoughts of a man staring at the sky
   in a frosty December night

deciding
to love on

* *
where is the wisdom
of my earlier worlds
giving me the illusion
I knew what I was saying

the years since then
have taught me insights
       unexpected  inconvenient
the wisdom of old age  maybe

yet I don't find again
the certainty of youth
forever lost
in the complexities of living
The United States was founded
by the brightest people in the country -
and we haven't seen them since.
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