Every life leads to
Something bigger than
The sum of the parts
Tissues, fluids
Meat, bones
Kids
Creations
Art
What is left
Is rarely nothing
We live on
Somehow
The lucky ones

A fractured smile
And telling eyes
The depths of my dreams
Fell through empty skies

I rise above the earth
The noise transcends to silence

Darkness giving birth
As peace replaces violence

If only from up here
The big becomes the small

Gently falls a tear
The absurdity of it all

Writing poetry isn’t as easy as it used to be
With the world as it is nowadays.  

Our bodies have changed—
Lungs struggling to breathe,
Neurons fighting for relief.
Plans for a perfect life
Titled into bitter disarray
As hope flies off a cliff-face
& hearts sink into dismay.

Martyrs ascending daily—
Victims of the imperial machine.
Lands stripped bare of wealth
In the name of corporate greed.

What of the women & children?
The innocent? Trans people?
Lesbians & gays? Is it really all
A question of orientation, gender,
***, & melanin in the skin?

Will we ever overcome these
Aggressions that grow from
Within our injured selves
& rid the planet of rampant
Evil before it rids itself of us?

My open window bears a gaping hole,
Welcoming and whining the sounds of my soul,
A tasteful mesh of stormy delight,
In a moment so blissfully lonesome tonight.  

Whirls of wind that plow through the trees,
Rain drops pouring and ******* wherever it may please,
Slight brisk drafts of air cooling me at ease,
In this hot, oven-like bedroom, while I cough and sneeze.

Alarm clock sets for the dawn of tomorrow,
I lay here filled with bouts of sorrow,
How this beat of peace is simply a borrow,
Due to this I whimper, whine, and willfully wallow.

The openness of my window, this gaping frame,
The darkness of my bedroom, delightfully same,
Provides sense of solitude in this world, without blame,
I complain not a lick that this is the name of my game.