Only rarely does someone stand up, rise up
And draw the multitudes in
Into the sacred space
That includes us all
And yet somehow eludes so many.
Such is the nature of free will,
We can all screw up, again and again and again.
What did Charlie do to deserve
To be assassinated? Nothing.
What did he do to bring it on nonetheless?
He met people as equals wherever they were,
He tried to raise everyone up,
And he did more to get out the conservative vote
Than anyone in generations, if ever.
Apparently, treating others as equals
And getting out the vote for your side
Is enough to get you killed
Because, I guess not everyone wants to be equal
Some want to be “special”,
With all the special rights that implies
And not everyone wants a level playing field
When it comes to politics and campaigns and elections.
What those people want
Is special privilege and advantage
And dead opponents.
So it is, and so it may be
But, if that’s the game you want to play
Be prepared to die a martyr
To a useless, meaningless, nihilistic cause.
It’s called a self-fulfilling prophesy.
(8/7/26)
The US tariffs declares the plot is lost
shielding the tired and old, from the new kid on the block.
Focusing on the past admits failure to compete
with others on a level playing field.
It says we've lost all
hope in our future innovation
and bright sparks in our populace
to lead us to our prosperity!
Born to a fantasy of wide renown,
When elves and dwarfs shared among men.
While seeming to dwell upon the topic of,
Who had the most powerful weapon back then.
This common theme has continued throughout,
Mankind's journey to open the doors of time.
By pursuing the ideals of bigger and better;
Constant improvement, and ignoring the crime.
Back and forth, the battle has raged, between those
To make a bigger gun, & those making a stronger shield.
Because there's always a place the soldier is needed,
and no one wants a level playing field.
Such wisdom in the art of war,
Drives the politics in nations and states.
Where the infamous, ' Military-Industrial Complex ',
Is the real demon in front of hell's gates.
This is the reality that comes with power,
As in, the bigger kid often carries the bigger stick.
And while most hope the big kid is no bully,
One rarely knows if he's guilty... or just really slick.
From the miniscule, to the grand vestibule,
Balancing forces are summoned to equate.
Where one seems to create more distance,
The other looks to attract and deflate.
Just as water in a vessel
Seeks to find its very level.
There's gravity about humanity to
Wrestle, among God and the devil.
Constantly pushing and pulling,
Recognizing difference while being the same.
While maintaining anonymity,
Avoiding any credit or blame.
With a powerful nature to compare,
As if a regression to the mean.
It looks to a level playing field,
That's righteous and clean.
So as we hold all of our heroes,
High above the earthen mound.
Knowing the praise may be short-lived,
If there was no equal ground.
You might be riding a wave of awareness.
Withstand, endure, suffer, and strive.
Maintain a clear mind to unworn insights and wellness.
Once you've reached your last objective.
Always remember that life isn't a level playing field.
You get what you want or need every now and again.
Despite how awful or dismal the situation appeared.
You'll get beyond anything if you just have faith then.
In moments of hardship, we bear mistakes.
It is essential to maintain a firm grip on the reins.
First Place Contest Winner
Written: July 13, 2021
A Brian Strand July 18 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Thank the Lord
I never had children
As with me the cycle ends
No more bad luck to put upon another
No more laugh's and jokes at our expense
Hereditary persecution ends here with me
Tomorrow you will have to find another poor soul
Upon which to pray your game
Of picking the wings off defenseless fly's
No more crying
No tear's for you to see
Find another mouse with which to play
My family tree never did you any harm
But that didn't stop you
Just know this
For all you gave
All I took
This is my final gift to you
I have the last laugh
With me it ends here
I leave you no heir to continue
Let it be known you heard it here
No more tear's
No more fear's
See you on the other side
On a level playing field
And by the way
Vie got your Number
For a brief period in our history Jack and his master
worked and played on a level playing field,
It was a time when overtime was plentiful enough for Jack to
Earn as much as middle management, should he so wish,
The class system was slowly sailing back into the mists of time.
All was sweet until along came the big corporations,
Using stealth and a sack full of money,
They had Jack and his master out on their ear,
Before they knew what hit them.
But this is not the end of the story,
As science has now started to play it's hand,
And a new improved class system,
Is starting to see the light of day.
Based on the cast system,
Children in preschool are being tested and fast tracked,
For leadership roles,
For life.
My advice to them,
Grab it with both hands,
Because before you reach 20,
You will be overtaken either by those bred for the purpose,
Or robots.
Though things are bleak indeed for Jack and his Master,
Spare a thought for Jane,
Who has only just made it onto the playing field,
And may be gone by lunch time.
It all rests on who gets to be referee.
propagated and plunged,
into the depths of misery.
every muscle aches in cogitation.
a level playing field,
with missing bones.
a war hero composed
upon the compost of humanity.
eyes closed in memory,
vigor still agitated in extremities,
philosophy carved out of stone.
massive ripples and torment
cry out,
“Is anyone out there? Does God exist”
the eyelids heavy, shaded - umbrella-like,
the pavilion, warblind warrior, forgets
all the kindness and love of country.
mankind looks at him and frets.
a frozen neanderthal, a gypsy
amidst the city traffic - he’s no longer home
in this body cast.
his toes wriggle free, decomposed.
the young looks up at him, wrinkles the nose.
but the image, like a photograph remains
in the mind, a harbor of discontent
and a young man or woman must choose
to ponder every inch or plummet the thought
off a cliff, without realizing they are holding
on with an iron grip, to rinse and repeat
the horror,
with war, hate and the torticollis of love.
2/9/2018
Why bother naming babies in the foreign land
Sarin gas is not a Happy Birthday gift or plan
No way to play, no party list to live or die by
Syria is no kind of place for children's games
No Happy Birthday cakes but many planes
Full of surprises with dire consequences
Falling from the sky with great precision
Not with balloons but barrel bombs it rains
Down comes the pain for babies endings
Chlorine gas to bleach the level playing field
Containers full of dynamite and nails
Shrapnel is no toy for children in a war
Metal fragments make them just as dead
As when the sarin fell on them
They sortakinda have the same effect
Why have a name when getting outta bed
Why bother naming babies in the foreign land
Why bother being born to die again
That sortakinda does not matter what you said
When dead is dead
I want to trust in other people,
That could be my biggest flaw,
Like God the Father, I am dreaming
All will come to love His law.
It’s sad to see so many people
Bogged down in their Hellish greed,
When fairness can extinguish fires of
Hateful and self-centered need.
The hallmark of a hopeful world is
Surely level playing field,
Not granaries of billionaires with
Monstrous wealth to hold and shield.
Those shouting loudest “I’ve got mine!” are
Likely earth’s most damaged souls,
Their “You get yours!” proves bankruptcy of
Heart, of mind, and servile goals.
Unknowingly they fan Hell’s flames, the
Very source of all their pain,
Pass laws to help them garnish more (while
Blithely drinking their champagne.)
There’s just one ending to this story
If our God exists at all,
Don’t deify a “Golden Calf” if
You propose to serve God’s call.
Long Tooth
January 1, 2017
upon the level playing field -
the empty ethos of today
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