People still are putting us down,
because we continue to get around.
We don’t care if we seem awful cold
as we decided we just won’t get old.

We’re using up resources I say
and refusing to fade-away.
Now I don’t want to cause a big sensation,
Just being honest about my g-g-generation.

We are dredging up the past,
because we know it won’t last.
Where all the troubles lie,
and we won’t let them die.

Talking about my g-g-generation
without any wasted lamentation
for the climate we broke
and war-fires we stoke.

Not sure what others might say
but we are refusing to fade-away.
We don’t care if we seem awful cold
as we decided we just won’t get old.

But we’ll keep saying:
what’s this world coming to?
When deep down, we know…
It’s my g-g-generation.

Civilization must be an illusion
for it so easily falls apart
as we unleash the dogs
of war and terror.

Revenge, retribution are
more relevant than empathy,
which is ever elusive,
except when it comes to one’s
own tribe.

Compromise has no standing
when life is undervalued
leaving all solutions to be
devastating and tragic.

We are an all or nothing
species, thinly disguised 
as sentient and caring
about puppies and such.

But not so much for people
sharing our planet, if they salute
a different flag or kneel 
to a different god. 

It now appears, there are
no rules; for the illusion of
civilization is shattered, 
and we are who we are. 

Extremists think they are strong,
stubbornly they will fight because
everyone else is so terribly wrong.

If they find themselves without power
to enforce their strong-held beliefs
they turn to nihilism, to make us cower.

It is anathema for them to compromise
for they cannot reason their populist
leaders may not be all knowing and wise.

They obfuscate with smoke and mirrors
the truths they find inconvenient as they
elevate their favorite weapon, latent fears.

There is no reason, there is no quarter for them,
there is only the fight, until exhausted
and utterly deflated and defeated in the end.

This is a sad state of life, brought on
by ignorance and stubbornness cultivated
by populist leaders perpetuating a con.

So, mother’s don’t let your children
grow up to be extremists, for they
will be defeated and deflated in the end.

The ones who light the fire,
now seek praise and attention
for putting out the blaze.

What’s the drama in just doing
a job of service and governance?

When the bright-lights are shining
they seem the most fulfilled.

Without the cameras there’d
be no drama to share,  but there’d
also be no end to corruption.

As the proverb goes,
those playing with matches
will get burned.

Eventually we will replace fools
playing with fire with quiet
competence and leadership …

Or else, it will all burn down
and an even bigger fool will show
minting his gold medals.

The new king to rule over a mess,
as he fires simple fools, taking
his retribution, and ending elections.

Then it is we who”ll dearly wish
we’d taken their matches long ago,
and replaced the fire feeding fools.

The breeze hints at coming coolness
the evenings come suddenly sooner
as the squirrels burying stores and
the geese gather for a journey.

Adventures and summers come to
a close, in the way of life-cycles as
everything moves in circles toward
a future of one type or another.

We are all nomads and nesters
stability and passion
motion and sedentary and
we are all-in on the next thing.

Even if the next things are the
old things, even if the old-world
is new, and the new world is old.
Motion is life.

And we’ll put our memories
into their place, give our hopes
to our dreams, and love the
changing leaves of autumn.

Thoughts are fleeting,
ideas if they change a heart
in a moment may live on in
life after life … a legacy unattributed.

And yet secrets are held
in the art we gaze upon,
in poetry held in one’s hand
and in nature’s mysteries.

For true are the moments
if one is open to it and
allows the spirit to absorb
meaning in everything.

Yet nothingness exists
so everything will have
its meaning in these
moments and forever.

And we are nothing if not a
series of moments and truths
expressed, and the sum is our
meaning… a legacy attributed.

I was writing a poem today about the future
when looking at the date, I remembered.

I remembered 22 years ago how thousands
were planning a future which in one
day’s time be no more.

How could we forget the dramatic and tragic
loss and the fear, and the united, determined
America which responded to the threat?

And wallow instead in the disputes and
divide we see today, and worry about a
future some never grew old enough to see.

We have a future we should value,
we have a loss we should remember, and
we should maintain our hope in America.

A prayer today
for those who lost their future… and
for those who fought for all of ours!

I rewrote this as I was editing for new book of poetry… 

Keep Stress Outside the Wall

Keep stress outside the wall
do not answer, no matter
its mindful mournful call.

Call the archers to the fight,
light all the fires you can and
bring light to the darkest night.

Never tire defending, for the stone
laid in your castle walls are strong
and look and see you’re not alone.

If it breaches, it fights eviction,
like an unwelcome tenant
challenging fervent conviction.

And if the wolf is thru the door,
and it is howling at you, then
you must wrestle it to the floor.

For you can and will surely win
you have weapons and help,
so never give-up, never give-in.

Art by Marianne Elias

The Soul of the Sea

The soul of the sea speaks to me
as the waves sing in harmony
and winds of wisdom push us along
playing the rigging in rhythm of song

The glorious glowing golden sky bright
with the shine of life-giving sunlight
dancing and mingling amongst the waves
bearing upon the hearts and souls’, it saves.

Is it the reflection of the sea on the sky we see
or is overarching horizons coloring a mercurial sea?
Is it the mysteries of unfathomable deep which inspire,
or is the ever changing sky which lights souls’ on fire?

The music of the birds, the expression of the sky
with reason and purpose we ask ourselves why
not to imagine distant travels on a fair quartering wind
as we fancy ourselves like ancient voyagers of our pretend.

But it is the journey of the soul we always know
which puts us in the middle of this timeless show,
where the sky performs, and the waves sing
and imaginary worlds and journeys begin.

When infrastructure is weak, and fates align
then disaster and its twin, tragedy will find
their chance to do whatever they desire
bringing forth flood, collapse and raging fire
to the people who fatefully left to neglect
infrastructure for which time would decrepit
and they would then say how could this be?
When all along it was they who didn’t see,
it was up to them to invest in their own
lest the twins bring forth horrors unknown.

Sadly, there will be more sins of omission,
leaving  the twins opportunity for commission
of ever greater disaster and tragedy
as we continue unobservant, failing to see.