Left in the wake of destruction,
this mother is called to action.
I am going to shed light on
an infraction, an infraction.
You knocked a single domino,
there is nowhere for us to go.
Forcing us out of our borough
with no crossbow, with no crossbow.
Basic instinct pushed to the brink
no fresh water remains to drink.
In your yard before you can blink
you didn’t think, you didn’t think.
Sitting on the couch
Of my own demise
Feeling judgment
In many wondering eyes
Watching the system
Move people like pawns
Place winners in silver and gold
And the loser in bronze
No one desires loss
Yet it comes to those in disguise
It is the return to stasis
That vanishes the lies
The gift of process is hidden
Like jewels taken by the ocean
Divers risk their lives for treasure
Given over to centuries of erosion
As I investigate the matter
On my god-given couch
I can see, with perfect clarity
That poor is the system and I got out
Resilience is the ability required
To process pain to action
But it is the gift of grace
That has enabled movement through every infraction
...and I am grateful
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-22-2026
Loathe the human walking in dusty trails by themself,
A rotary dial spinning round for the switchboard,
“Who are you calling today”
Dead silence on the other end of the line,
“I’m calling ‘cause I’m lost”
The caller responds,
“How can I help” rings from the switchboard,
“Point me home”
Says the voice from a landline phone,
They have a house,
A phone to call from,
Friends to answer,
But no direction,
A living, painful vivisection.
A torn page from a book who left them behind,
Cracked open like bunker rations,
Torn apart by war like factions,
Ripped from their whole like fractions,
Calling god on a landline for his benifaction,
Smothered in the holy water his whole life,
But no bath could cleanse the sins of his own action,
No rotary phone could call for help for such an infraction,
So please call me, before I lose myself in this abstraction.
My heart is heavy, and my soul falls to inaction,
My brains all I got left and sometimes it feels like the only way to reach Nirvana,
Is a pump-action.
Rebellion and riverbeds start to dance
with a rush flowing, slowing, then stalling.
Both try perilously to gain traction,
the current is treacherous take a stance.
It may appear that you’re barely crawling,
and then brute force takes over a fraction.
At times the first step is all you can do
but it’s enough to get something going.
Often a change can stem from infraction,
that desire to disrupt springs a call to
action.
In the game of football, one may be
called for an infraction by the toss of a flag.
In basketball, there are whistles and 24 seconds to shoot.
In the sport of boxing, there is a clock and bell.
When I was a child, there was a game called 'marbles'.
In the game of marbles, initially, there was a line toward which each player tossed a marble to determine the first
to shoot his marble. There was an advantage to being the first shooter.
In the game of life, there are advantages and disadvantages, clocks, bells, flags, lines, and
Whistles. We are challenged by them. By them,
we may win or lose; grow and develope or
complain and allow them to control us.
Sworn together by my troth my May bride
when joined were glad hearts on eternal date -
Rome did not fall nor the planets collide
and blessed by the Fates we did celebrate.
You wore pearls, rings of emerald and gold,
and girl, you and I an earthly child bore -
O’ Venus, heed my words that I have scrolled
for we were once the gods of Love and War.
No tempter’s dragoon, no fool’s inaction
will keep me apart or sworn vows undo,
and without further lapse or infraction
I rededicate my life unto you.
Keep me close and tight in your loving arms
and in the rescue of your mortal charms.
Written: August 2004
Life i beleive...yet cant always see.? Is more than
Physicalitys.'
There's infraction, reaction good and evil in action.'
Its hard to press, against the tide..The wall of doubt
The falseness inside' it steals.' In hidden repitiore i hear
So many shugard lies..And also there's a love? that hides.! Because of fear
I've seen them bend (the minds and spirits) too true.!
My friends, some random courage..' Thats what I need!
To see to know.? To ausauge for real' and Jesus knows
On Him I'll call..In this broken hour as burdens fall, let it be
So' though in
Myriad ammount.' by thought and message? by emotive bouts'
I'll let it go, and take His yoke' its better than the worlds old wearied
Trope.. that always tells you, you must cope..! With raging abnormalitys; that Bids you with darkness, and much destruction.. To be at ease.?
"Born William Henry McCarty, Jr. AKA, Billy the Kid or El Chivito, (Billy Goat/Kid). He had a younger brother named Joseph, and they both had an older sister named Bridget McCarty. Not much is known about the family other than the widow Catherine raised her son Billy before dying of tuberculosis. Also, him and his younger brother Joseph were arrested for an infraction (charged with stealing, that they claimed were items of necessity)," [A fictional parody] ... by Poet.
Famed Billy the Kid had a sister,
She dated his rival, who kissed her,
When asked if it's true,
Says what's it to you,
He took out his gun, shot, and missed her.
Now Billy the Kid's reputation,
Sees at risk without hesitation,
Hand still holds a gun,
Aimed own head shoots one,
Then, cried out in humiliation.
Sissy saw and ran off with her mouth,
Everybody in town heard her out,
With Billy, cash rolled,
Without him, no gold,
Town thought it best to put her lights out.
The Kid grabbed some dirt and had it thrown,
Fell on her coffin o'er a blank stone,
You folks ... you're to blame,
Her stone has no name,
We named the town after her, "Tombstone?"
When your kids are grown your just a mom,
They call you to be their calm.
You’re not allowed to have advice,
Unless it’s about how to remove mice.
A friend sometimes you just want to be,
But as for feelings of the heart, you are only to agree.
The ache of them being no more a child,
With the tears of the past, you are allowed only a smile.
And with great satisfaction,
That you raised them right, and they get nothing more than an infraction.
Into pieces your heart breaks,
As tears fall into your morning cornflakes.
And you spend your day listening for a phone call,
That slowly fades into a night of listening to the sad and lonely rainfall.
© Deborah Seale Schnadelbach 2023
Screw the rules is the motto I live by
Too old to toe the line
So sue me and then just try to collect
Won't be alive to pay the fine
I'll be kicking up daisies on a hill out back
As you tear out all your hair
Sure had the last laugh you uptype people
Just break the rules if you dare
Rules are made to be broken I've heard
Love to see the reaction
These sillies go nutso and red in the face
At my blatant infraction
Oh for the days when we burned our garbage
In a fire pit behind our house
And just for a little excitement sometimes
We'd throw in a little mouse
Barbaric you say, I learned from the best
Daddy taught me all about life
Said “never take life too serious, my son”
You don't get to go around twice
Our neighbor Edna is an incessant talker for sure
My husband says squawker, and I think so too
Weird words come out in a blather, somehow threatening
More than a bit of chatter, it is constant and nonsensical.
We call her magpie when we are alone, which is not nice.
For this infraction, we may someday atone, we know it too.
But for now, it gives us a tiny bit of satisfaction, strangely enough.
Edna’s words are fired forth in a spewing action, her ideas open.
It’s like every thought in her head has to come forth.
Does she keep nothing for herself? To make fun of us perhaps?
Her ways are curious to us, and her rhymes are twisted and disjointed.
A dash from subject to subject, and quickly back. It is difficult to follow.
There is a rhythm to her madness. She dances to her own rhymes.
Magpie’s rhymes. I like the sound of this, decide to write a poem.
Can never tell Edna of her help though, for she is an incessant talker.
Never listens to anyone else, thinking only her thoughts are important.
I can see that The Holy Bible
Has not Good Words it kept for Libel:
Whoever has been badly defamed
To not feel like Our Lord ‘The Profaned’
I sort of spot in Holy Bible
The Faces of Men that did it scribble;
One or Two free with their emotions,
The Rest Inclining to God’s Notions …
I reckon The Forgiveness Command
Wants to Man confine to Mercy Land
And that it is a Grim Injunction
That brooks no Audacious Infraction …
A Sad Mathematics in Bible:
Christ’s stated Seventy Times Seven,
To the Aggrieved quite describable
In terms of An Unfeeling Heaven …
The Hard-kicking portions of Bible
Are its Ever Scary Hell Fires
Which their Happy Writers did scribble;
Still guilt after lawyers one hires;
I’d want not The Forgiveness invoked
And dying to hear The Hell revoked.
Taking my first summer stroll in the meadow,
I marveled at the new growth and flowers
The sun was shining full blast, not a single shadow
My mind rummaged through its ivory towers.
Wild carrot and cosmos were in full bloom
Along with larkspur and bright columbine,
Tempting me to pick for my living room
But I demurred, not to disturb the natural
Habitat for the critters, pollinators for the bees
Seeing in them something awesomely spiritual,
I headed for the woodland line of trees.
Surprisingly, someone has set up a salt lick
I wonder, this being a wildlife sanctuary
Surely no hunting, it hit me like a brick,
I thought it so entirely unnecessary.
Surely not here...a deer hunter's nasty trick.
An afternoon so filled with joy and promise
Suddenly was overshadowed with awful thoughts,
I quicky turned and headed toward the house,
My stomach churning, gut tied up in knots.
I shall complain of this infraction to authorities,
Next thing I know, they'll be chopping down trees.
Written June 3, 2022
[Last year partial fencing was a scare;
Now hunting? They wouldn't dare!]
She knew things were going to fall into place in an amazing way
Of course they did.
She obtained her dream job.
He was certain he was going to be flogged and beaten.
Someone mugged him on the way home
Choices are imperative.
He suspected something weird was going on, but did not comment.
Later he was glad, because his ideas were way off,
and mentioning it might have hurt someone.
She was furious with a co-worker for an assumed infraction
And refused to give them a second chance.
It is always our choice, remember that.
She visualized joy because she needed to get out of her funk.
Believing brought happiness to her within a few hours.
Sadly, he could not refocus because he was too angry.
His therapist worked with him, but he did not try.
He was determined to be angry, sad and mad.
He chose an attitude that once again did not help him.
An Orwellian Explanation
Orwellian in nature, data-collecting agencies are necessary.
They keep adding information to the files created at someone’s request.
Everything gathered is retrieved, analyzed, and assessed,
so there’s no need for alarm. Live your lives as you see fit,
and maybe, at worst, a minor infraction discovery occurrence
and a penalty imposed—nothing unbearable: “a small price for forgiveness.”
Focus on the big picture, and be rest assured, there is purpose without flagrancy.
After all, we seek the same things: peace, prosperity, health, and a clear conscience.
And when glitches are found, they are expeditiously corrected by the agencies.
So always remember, information is vital. Continue to be an obligatory participant.
Exercise discipline for yourselves and the children. You are a generation of promise.
Individual sacrifice is honoured for the greater and common good of the entirety.
“Where shallow waters flow, there, I cross with many.
I journey as far as I’m living; faith will do the rest.”
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