Beneath the stormy sky, the Taurus stands pliant
to face the world with profound inner strength,
confronting life as if it’s a bullfight
where the aggressive world acts as the matador,
flapping the crimson capes of wavering crisis.
Obstinacy fostered as the survival mechanism
turns the bitter fight into a personal triumph,
proving that true power is the ability
to stand the ground until the arena is quiet.
Stand up.
Speak up.
But -
When it comes to a Black person -
You -
Just shut up
It’s funny how -
When it comes to us needing help,
Selective mutism is your only way out.
We fight the big fights,
Play the role of superhero - day and night,
We are heroes without the capes,
And yet when we need support, you hide behind the drapes,
Every other race is given grace,
But when it comes to us, no matter what we do - we are called a disgrace
When a Black person needs protection,
They see our skin, and - accuse us of seeking attention,
When we practice our right of self defence,
We are accused of a criminal offence,
Seen as criminal, for standing our ground
Then we are seen as a danger to be around.
Stand up.
Speak up.
But not for a Black Person,
Stand up.
Speak up.
If you are not Black, they won't see you as criminally liable,
Stand up.
Speak up.
Not to defend us, just to label us criminals.
The morning sighs
with hoarse, guttural caws.
Crows twirl and cartwheel backwards,
like charred scraps of newspaper
caught in wild feral, wind eddies
above a raging bush fire.
Goosestepping gulls
enforce their feeding-ground territories
with threats and violent gestures
their beaks snapping shut
like rust-corroded, iron gates.
Looping caterpillars
form a Congo line
across the blistered bark of trees
while ants drag dismembered wings
along cracks in the pavement.
A magpie bludgeons
a snail against the stones
until the shell gives way
its pale body spilling outwards;
a molluscan sacrifice
that satisfies the hunger pangs
of a black-and-white starving bird.
Worms writhe blindly,
torn asunder
on the hot sunbaked soil
attacked by hordes of bull-ants
lake tiny matadors in torero corrida,
sparing with capes and lances
as they torment the helpless,
doomed, and dumb, succumbed prey.
The morning sun rises,
guilty as charged!
without pity or cause,
without mercy or motive,
to silent, stark applause,
as nature pleads for survival.
October shenanigans announced in every way
It looks like a mysterious autumn day
what is that rumble from the west?
it’s a foggy night, and there is no rest.
Witches fly with shiny satin capes askew
Kittens grasp onto their broomsticks too
Jack-o-lanterns smiles are widely seen
because it’s a week before Halloween
sometimes you get visited by a ghoul
in this county, it is an unwritten rule
Halloween comes but once a year
don’t look now but one is quite near
Humanity, a big joke based on stories
First, their existence through the evolution of apes
Though it wasn't just picked up a day like groceries
It was proved by men who died still wearing their capes
As centuries passed their quest for wealth grew higher
Those who had, gave others no time for leisure
It was work, serve or face their wrath as a disloyal
In this, the masters gained nought but pleasure.
There was one flaw though in humanity
One that wrapped all hearts like a glove
And made both masters and servants form a bond of unity
The saviour for man's cruelty, love.
I was always shown stories as a kid,
Heroes with capes and cowls taking center stage,
Talking, walking, beating crime down with style and flare,
Until I got older,
And I saw my own personal heroes fighting amongst themselves,
My batman yelling at a emotionally starved wonder woman,
As I hid in my fortress of solitude,
Hiding away with a knife in my hands.
It felt so strange when I saw that same knife on TV,
My first horror movie,
As it pierced the veil of a shower curtain.
I got back into superheroes as a teen,
Now no capes and a lot less glory than I had remembered,
Just The Boys showing me even superheros can be supervillains.
But I watched them with rapt attention
Watching as they burned the world around them, to a cheering crowd.
I wished to be them one day,
Able to do anything I wanted,
If I was a leader I’d burn down buildings too,
Its only fair,
Right?
Witches in capes and their black pointed hats
Riding on brooms with their black
Witches cat.
Witches don't laugh they just cackle and scream
Are Witches reality or do they just live in your dream
Witches casting spells That can make you bark like a dog
Making up Witches potions that can turn
You into a frog
Witches are they real this or is what I write
All in fun
But I will only advise you this if you do
See a witch RUN.
Light arrives from its flight
wheeling behind its suitcase of shadows,
exposures, echoes and consequences.
It spills its hoard across the floor,
and gathers remnant dark
remains from dim corners.
It daubs and stitches
black silhouette capes and patches
behind all it passes.
These shadowy figures are light's wind vanes
tracing where its being seen.
Light reveals the cracks, dents, dust and flaws
hidden by unrealized expectations.
It dusts the scene for fingerprints
and other forensic traces
bringing all the hidden
unseemly before and afters
into stark relief.
Nothing escapes light's black valise
carry-on bag.
Petrified zombies march
past displays of potato starch
Onlookers stop to gape
at what’s depicted on their capes
The clue connecting all this
floats upside down in the abyss
Real heroes aren’t fearless,
They’re brave enough to face their fears,
And the real ones aren’t emotionless,
They are the ones who shed tears.
Real heroes don’t have crowds around them,
They are usually the most ignored,
And they’re the ones who've been heartbroken the most,
Not the ones that are the most adored.
Real heroes aren’t the ones that move the mountains,
They’re the ones who struggle to climb them,
And the real ones don’t defeat enemies,
They’re the ones that forgive them.
Real heroes aren’t bulletproof,
They get bruises and scrapes,
And the real heroes wear their scars,
Not all heroes wear capes.
Where do you come but are not led
Where do you rest but have no bed
Where do you sup but are not fed
Where do walls make free instead
Where do heroes shed their capes
Where are forms but never shapes
Where do you leave behind the apes
Where do confines birth escapes
Where do contained mul’tudes dwell
Where do secrets go to tell
Where are beasts and monsters fell
Where is your prison with no cell
March 22, 2025
On Februarys third, when winter bites,
We set our tables for feathered flights.
Seeds scattered wide on frozen ground,
Draw tiny visitors from all around.
Cardinals flash their crimson capes,
While chickadees and finches take
Their turns at feeders swinging free,
A backyard birds jamboree.
Sunflower seeds and millet spread,
Like nature's feast of daily bread.
The juncos hop through drifted snow,
While woodpeckers tap high and low.
This simple act of kindness shows
How care through bitter winter flows.
For in these days of frost and chill,
We keep our wild friends' bellies filled.
So fill your feeders, spread the word,
Today's the day to feed a bird.
A handful shared with wings above
Returns a thousand songs of love.
When you think of heroes, who comes to mind?
Who inspires you the most?
Could it be a sports athlete on the court or the field?
It could be fictional characters like Spider-Man or The S.H.I.E.L.D.
Maybe it's one of your teachers in school;
Or your best friends who are just like you, totally cool.
Your pastor in church, a doctor or nurse,
Your parents/grandparents who warn you not to curse:
It might be your neighbor you see everyday
Or someone in the military fighting for the USA.
A famous singer, an actor, an activist;
A guidance counselor, your siblings, possibly a therapist;
Maybe a police officer or firefighter? That's a pretty long list.
So who do you look up to as your hero?
Think before you answer and try not to boast.
Not all heroes wear capes, as you can see,
But there is a hero inside of you and me.
Greedy vine spirals smother monoliths
Spider fern moss, fairy forest vertical
Soaks in secrets, promise admonished
Water trawled crevice, creek cervical
Church canopy arch angel honours
Wing finger cool fires praise prancing
Laser selects sections, bark polished
Licked by flitting demure madonnas
Eight afore taped to trees keen tropical
Each fresh capes the chapel innocent
Suckers strung hearts hung over tendrils
Hundred year hardness rots, wet spent
Mighty trunk rips open room charcoal
Doorway discloses disaster clandestine
Bluebeard’s bride wives winding sparkle
Shon hopeful on nymph number nine
3rd of July
Daintree Dancing
Superheroes
stalwart, selfless
soothing, protecting, serving
Suits, Boots, Capes, Crowns
unassuming, watching, saving
bulletproof, empathetic
Humanity
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