Hot Sun whispers 'Go out and play.'
your spirit cannot disobey
it's a piece of the Milky Way
The darkest day, the darkest day;
Colored stars ignite a long night,
poetry the softest sound bite;
Peace is now colored chestnut white;
Follow the light, follow the light.
We dance to a drum beat
We all thought we were individual
But we are just line dancing through life
No one truly steps out of line
We have false dawns
We think we are protesting against the world we find
Instead we end up endorsing fear
The new leaders of the line , pray upon our deepest fears
But the regime stays the same, rich against the poor
The drum is on a loop
Protected by the vested interests
They just use us like shields
Right wing, left wing
A bird needs two wings to fly
We humans share the one planet
Maybe we should give it a try
To come together , to share the bounty
Instead of imbalance, we could try humanity
But that is a step beyond the masters of the line
We must think beyond the half truths, the fake truths and the alternative facts
This planet is not renewable , it is not a plastic sphere
It is not a sound bite lets make that clear
Lets allow the different melodies and rhythms combine
Maybe we can all dance to different beats
Without threading on each others feet
I want the truth.
The whole truth, not your spin
doctor, sound bite version of
the truth, but the real deal,
honest to God
Baptist preacher on Easter
Sunday morning truth.
The kind of truth you only tell
your mama, because she’s psychic,
and it’s a waste of time trying to
tell her anything else anyway.
Okay, let’s have it.
I’m a big girl and I can take it,
I won’t cry.
I want the truth.
The whole truth.
Did you eat the last
damn slice of pizza?
Popular Anonymity
A Lingering crowd doubts you have the courage
You are hung out to dry with insults from strangers
Imploring you to jump
Apoplexy, apathy, and will to live design you
Standing on the building edge
Perhaps the comforts of home will help
When you slip and grab a brick
With nervous fingers
Butter is sent up, applied by unknown loved ones
Giving permission from on high for you to drop
Hopes die. Friends talk to you in slow motion
Mother promises to bake a cake if you survive
Police pretend to know you on the sharp edge of your demise
For your enjoyment… Their pleasure...The crowd applauds
You’ve become the center of the nightly news and nothingness
What a surprise! Centered and served up as a sound bite (Did you catch the name?)
s/he wants to get through this
quickly, s/he wants the horror to
be brief, s/he wants it to pass
like a fart in the wind, s/he doesn’t
want to be interrupted now (and
later will never come), s/he wants
the sound bite to be played only
once, s/he wants no visual to
accompany, s/he wants the folks
at work to cease talking about it,
s/he wants the newspapers & online
recordings of these events to be
washed from the record, s/he
wants to stay calm & collected, s/he
wants to be secure for the rest of
her/his life, s/he wants the world
to listen when s/he cries, s/he
wants to want what s/he’s allowed
to be wanting because s/he’s
nothing but the abridged version
of what s/he used to be.
The sun was high
Throats were burning dry,
The wagons circled round,
Hearts began to pound-
It's too quiet....was the prophetic sound.
Casually callow
superficial and shallow
this young media fellow.
Lordly and light
trivial and trite,he sat
filling the moment with tat.
Sketchily slight
meekly absorbing
every sound bite.
Clips so neat
in endless repeat the spin
with an endless grin.
In-depth review so lacking
as instant opinions abound
impartiality missing unfound.
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