Big ghosts have small ghosts
in their dreams to haunt ‘em,
Small ghosts have smaller ghosts
and so-on ad infinitum
As I get older
My wish lists get
Smaller and smaller
What I really want
Can't be bought with money.
I live in the flight path of fifty to one hundred planes a day
Very rarely do my dogs look up now
They think it is normal for the sky to sound like a 747
Today was an exception
We all looked up
A plane sounded like she needed a muffler
I thought it would be a small plane
It was a 747
I was terrified until it cleared my home
Once there were millions.
Now there are billions.
Once there were kings.
Now there are councils.
Once there was ignorance.
Now knowledge abounds.
Once there was poverty.
Now comfort for most.
Once there was war.
Now there is peace.
Once there were traditions.
Now there are systems.
Our relative power is slipping away.
Even as we all grow greater each day.
8 October 2023
Do they dream of vast oceans,
of soaring sea-raised mountains
of wave upon wave of rolling
aqueous seascapes?
The little brown ducks
show no such inclination.
They dabble and diddle about
gently pecking at moments
meandering from here to there
on the silky green grass banks
of a shallow pond.
The in-land gulls
that descend flat-footed
on the lush lawns
squawk loudly of the salty life
far from the safety
of city parks,
but the ducks just nibble
and squabble - paddle
over their petty hours
and if they ever ponder
the infinity of space and time
they peck at that thought
until it drowns
in a single drop of water
shaken from a dismissive
feathered tail.
Our planet's a much smaller place today,
the internet connects us one-to-one.
And we can understand what others say,
for everyone can talk to anyone,
as all translations are instantly done.
We're now able to link with each other,
learn how we differ, and what goals we share.
Strangers become a sister or brother
as we expound on love and voice despair,
sharing our cultures, so each is aware.
To navigate a world of global strife,
we no longer rely upon the news.
And to help protect endangered wildlife,
we now share global environmental views,
posting pictures of what the world may lose.
The internet changed how we interact,
social media stands in for a friend.
And as we distinguish fake news from fact,
the net provides a platform where wounds mend
and innate similarities can blend.
I have a flatter head said the gator, haughtily.
So what? The crock answered. “Let me see.”
But crock went home and pouted about it too.
His mother told him not to be so blue.
Gators have much smaller heads, she said.
Their brains are tiny, not easily fed.
But don’t tell him that. For you will hurt your friend.
So crock’s baby pouting promptly came to an end.
Mama Gator and Mama Crock got together.
They talked about their boys, their lives and the weather.
We can look at life in a different way,
But we will always be friends at the end of the day.
We can be better friends without all that bragging.
We can be better friends, without tongues that go wagging.
With rumors and gossip, we have nothing to gain.
So when tempted, remember you need to refrain.
Crocks and gators can be wonderful friends.
But they have to have kind feelings that never end.
They have to listen, and learn and be polite.
So they can go home happy at the end of each night.
I see the world through a screen
The lines cut everything into little squares
If I get far enough away I can hardly tell
But when I am up closer it all gets clear
Nothing is connected everything is alone
The lines are there because I drew them
The separation protects my fragile self
The little squares make everything smaller
The tiny people are smaller than me
I am not afraid of all the small things
I cannot live the whole world all at once
Too much everything and all the chaos
Reality would flood my soul and drown me
My mind likes the order of the little squares
Let me be in my little world of little nothings
False promises that
you made to me
Letting me see
What you wanted
Me to see
Giving me hope
When none was there
Making me care
And leaving me scared
Fasting my heart
To fill me with doubt
Making me feel
Just like a small mouse
A Smaller Flame...
Death, where is your respite?
Fear, how bitter your taste?
Time, how fickle your finger,
upon the pulse of haste.
Anger, how deep your reach?
as I turn my face away...
Hatred, your cold embrace,
has left me with nothing to say.
The voices of the heart are faint,
and whispers fade to nothing.
Tears that never fall,
For a moment soon forgotten.
How like a prison is my once loved home
Since now I linger here in fevered chills.
No more may I be free to walk and roam
Nor climb the mountains and the hills.
The television irks me and annoys
I cannot bear the sound of human voice.
My lost intelligence is not deployed
I err in thinking I have little choice.
And so it is myself whom I destroy.
What path to take when feeling lost and ill,
When lying in my bed I cannot rest.
What act would give me strength and better will?
What purpose has this illness and its test?
The road to hell is paved with too much thought
So smaller joys and pleasures are not sought
S
The Products Get Smaller and Smaller
By Elton Camp
Every time that we go to the store
Containers hold less than before
This is only a hidden price increase
A practice that truly needs to cease
For it will hurt all in coming days
When there’s no cost of living raise
Sometimes the shape will change
Slyly cutting contents to arrange
A bubble at the bottom does the same
This type dirty trick is a rotten shame
Maybe the box is the same size still
But the contents woefully fail to fill
This practice we shouldn’t tolerate
May a sales loss be the cheater’s fate
tall men overshadow the small men
in great sadness we all fall down
joy abounds from the inside of hearts and souls
tears fall like stars
onto the cracked pavements of old
lyrical embellishment
of a crescending scratch
packs
its things, ready to run
builds its place
among the nothings
of an empty woods
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