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 playing field is even now;
Everything is fair.
Did you know since I’ve been gone
I haven’t felt despair?
I just received my angel wings
And flew through heaven’s gate.
Everything is whole again;
I’ve finally cleaned my slate.
The light looks really different here,
The air is fresher too.
Everyone is happy now—
It all looks so brand new.
I sat upon a rainbow’s curve
And looked along its bend.
It greeted me so graciously
And said it’d be my friend.
It said that it’d watch o’er you
And visit very soon.
“Don’t worry much,” it promised me,
“The rain will pass by noon.”
I know things feel confusing now,
And I’m sad you’re stuck on earth.
But know that I will wait for you
Until your own rebirth.
I’ll save a special seat for you,
Right here next to me.
And when your day has finally come,
My heart will sing with glee.
Two bulbs in a room,
Blooming with delight,
Brightening up the night,
Fighting the unknown,
Until the truth is shown,
It can't be done alone,
You own your own spark,
Use it to see the dark,
Making your mark on the playing field,
Wielding the power of right and wrong,
The song sung by your perception,
The reflection shines back,
Stack the deck,
A speck into a stain,
Remain true to you,
Follow through,
Your light just grew,
Who knew I could do that to you,
Viewing these words,
Stirred something inside,
A ride into your core,
Finding you're made for more,
Exploring the forest and the trees,
Seeing three bulbs now blooming,
Choosing to light up the room,
Darkness soon to loom,
Doomed to the bright light,
Fight your fears,
Clearing the way,
Playing freely all day.
In saying this I feel the shame
It's not the US alone to blame.
It's also UK & all the EU.
It all boils down to me & to you.
Neither is it only just their mess;
Neither is it politics or the press
Or the corporations
Or other nations.
***
There was a time in history
When humanity would say "It's no mystery.
It's the work of the devil
That the playing field is not level."
"It's the axis of evil
That allow some to be so gleeful,
When so many must suffer,
For they are 'the other.' "
***
"They should know their place & see!"
Whilst some, happy in their complacency,
Watch millions starve & die;
And the horse we sit upon is so high,
That looking down we do not see
That the real cause is actually you & me.
73 years ago
A kid my age steps off a curb.
And, in the motion of falling, he believes he can reach heaven.
He has the thoughts of someone
with an inverted ribcage
And he’s sick on cigarette smoke and hypocrisy.
A kid my age, 73 years ago, calls me a pervert.
Through the thin veil of time and space
We lock eyes.
I say “I see you.”
He says “You’re sick.”
But that’s wrong and he knows it.
I am not the sick one.
He is the kid with the killing hat
And the giving hands
That despise the people he gives to.
He is the kid with filthy thoughts and phony smiles
Who sees the hollow spaces between his ribs
In the innocence of a child’s eyes.
And despite the filth beneath his tongue
And the alcohol stinging his throat
I cannot bring myself to
Feel anything for him
other than
Pity.
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!
Gambling with WWIII
Let Putin feel the power
Of the USA poker face
Invite Ukraine to the table
Stack the chips up high
Welcome their citizens
With open arms
We already send them weapons
We already send them aid
They're already a Democracy!
Let's add them to our flag
With a Star worth more than money
Worth more than fame
You've forced our hand
Let's plan to create a new US border
You won't mind if we're your neighbor
War is not a game with
Toy soldiers, greed, and the need
To level out the playing field
Stop Russia' s own manifestation
Of mind-boggling pretentiousness
Watch out Putin, here we come ...
The 51st state: Ukraine!
Finally my blood began to coagulate,
signalling that wounds inflicted by fate had healed,
paving way for my presence, to pass through heaven’s gate.
I played out my hand as of the cards, I was by destiny dealed,
equal in both joy and pain, dancing gleefully in the rain,
knowing God holds my hand on life’s playing field.
Detached from mundane thoughts of loss or gain,
I dissolved my wayward ego in the womb of love divine
and thus Holy Spirit magically cleansed my soul’s sin and stain.
As polarities orbit each other, I see how love for love does pine,
in timeless time entwining blissfully under God’s oneness sign.
The playing field level
your words versus mine
A race to forever
embedded in rhyme
The score has been tied
neither side giving ground
Both phrases and couplets
inscribed to astound
It’s late in the game
when a stanza takes off
Outpacing the others
no images lost
As darkness approaches
but one voice remains
Returned from the heavens
— posterity claimed
(The New Room: February, 2024)
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.
Docked your own can it tote-n-land home
Locked unknown antidote to amp the mode
Clamped-n-sewn your stamp will show
Plan it slow in a long tramp you know
Boat the load and camp your stow
Go for broke to brand a glow
Sold your joke now stand-n-soak
Hold folk accountable and count your table
Don't poke a mountable route make a staple
Flow on ropes tight like cable
Low-n-behold a dangle blame angle
Won't hold me-n-strangle in a shame shamble
That’ll level the bevel playing field left disheveled
Hips shoveled as his groveled
It’s bliss behold miss molted
Changes skin manages kin
Estranges them bandages again
Rearranges agendas to gain
Free ranges attendance scars remain
Eerie chances dependence hard refrain
Flee dances of steep step stances
Weep wept lands won’t weaken plans
We keep kept cans to seep sunken strands
You deserve our adoring praise
For You alone are worthy of honor
Making our playing field more even
Gifting us with strength and power
To vanquish our enemies' schemes
We cannot express our thanks enough
For Your name is our provision
Let Your favor and mercy flow
This year will be one of recovery
Be still and know, trust in Your plans
For all that You died for us to gain
We will inherit in Your holy Name.
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.
‘Your wish is my command’
he said it just as any woman in love
might want to hear
He said it like he was evening some score
somehow leveling the playing field
but said like he might really mean it some day
He said it like he was divulging some deep secret
that might otherwise never see the light of day
yet here was one step closer to a goal or destination
He said it loud and deliberate
so I could not misinterpret
or pretend I did not hear
‘Your wish is my command’, he said
so I’d know that somewhere below the surface
he meant it to some degree
I knew he liked the gallantry of it
and might even want it be true
so I took the gift as it drifted onto shore
Lone and castaway, a care package of sorts
I didn’t know what I might do with it
but I gathered it under my wing and
offered it a home within my heart
AP: 3rd place 2022
As we get older,
Our ability to demolish what is on our plate in short order,
Becomes a pleasure no longer,
And without teenagers around to even the playing field,
Leftovers would continue coming out of left field,
For ever and ever until we find ourselves under the field.
But with teenagers around,
All us non-teenagers get to stay longer above ground,
As the food served up is fresh,
With nothing left on any dish,
That can be served as leftovers,
Which reduces the dangers,
Of obesity for us non teenagers,
From eating portions that are over generous.
Now all we must do is reduce the size of our drinks,
To celebrate the end of leftovers,
If teenagers are around,
To keep us longer above ground.
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