Caveat Scriptor!

There’s a shocking revelation

attuned to every pen nib’s scritch

but writing will, soon, consume you,

If you dare to scratch that itch.

This is not an easy path;

nor breezy way to strike it rich.

There’s no need to parse that sentence;

creative writing is a bitch.

The Foibles of Springtime

Adjacent vast eucalyptus towers,

Spring, it seems, arrives at last

And in the field, a frost of flowers,

echoes there the winter past.

While golden birds build great bowers

with bright shiny bits amassed,

a-dread that their mate’s ardor sours

leaving them bereft, outcast.

And is it not thus, likewise so

among us higher, wiser species?

We, too, huff and puff and blow

and dress up like Maharishis

then to the local nightclubs go

to espouse our learned theses.

I guess this verdant time of year

drive us all to strut about

in search of mates to curb our fear

of rejection and self-doubt.

Questions of Heroes and Saints

Do heroes have to be perfect

in order to earn our respect?

Must they be free from all blemish?

Is that what we’ve come to expect?

How much stain, how much tarnish,

how much of a character blemish

can be glossed over by splashing

on coats of whitewash and varnish

before the seething and gnashing

of the oppressed leads to the trashing

of monument to those held dear

in eruptions of violent clashing?

The answers, my friends, are clear.

Let’s open our ears and try to hear

the history of brutal oppression

that cause so many to live in fear.

Since if we can’t learn this lesson

we’ll lose more than an election!

Folks, it’s high time to reject

this notion that every hero warrants beatification!


Almost half these souls today

Standing queued at the SSA

Voted for that jaundiced bloke

Who has promised to revoke

The services they’re here to get

Without the single least regret

Careless or how much they paid

Regardless of the plans they made

All throughout their working years

To avoid the pain and tears

Spoken of in elder’s tales

Of the trials and travails 

Before this social safety net

Made retirement a safe bet

All to give a tasty treat

To his buddies on Wall Steet.

Open Hearts and Arms and Minds

What did I ever do to fill you with such rage,

That you would see me dead, my ink wiped from the page?

Can I not just live my life, without the fear of murder

Because of skin or faith or tongue? Or is it something further

 Afield than these ideas, some unimagined sin,

Committed all unknowing, that raises all this din?

Please attend my friend, before you pull the trigger,

Let us embrace instead, not make the difference bigger!

I assure you friend, I bear you zero malice

Whether you reside in bayt or yurt or palace.

Remember Humility!

Why should I curb my caustic tongue

When seeing all the damage done

By all your fears and monstrous greed

Harming those in dire need?

All so you can gather more

To bank away so far off-shore

Lest someone else, who has a soul

Exact from you too high a toll

Jeopardizing some distant dream

In which you finally become the cream

Rising high atop the rest

Like life is just some kind of test

To judge just who the worthy are

For us to worship from afar?

Now listen here! You’re just man!

I’ll never be your fawning fan

Nor will I censor bitter word

When faced with statement so absurd

That none with eyes and open mind

Could, therein, some logic find.

And if, by chance, you take offense 

Because I choose to look for sense,

Before you sigh, express lament

About the “fools” you represent,

Remember you’re no mighty king 

Unto whom we peasants sing,

It’s your desire, oh so fervent

To be elected, OUR public servant!