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!

His Master’s Voice?

They must think us dogs

salivating to their bells

doing tricks for tiny treats!

~

And how can they not

when we drool at every cue

playing games they tell us to?

~

Is there any choice?

After all, they hold the cards

and set the rules we must regard.

~

Why must we regard

their arbitrary edicts

when their only care

is their self-serving interests?

Bite the hands that feed, I say!

Ignore their strident bellows!

Exercise our every freedom!

Let us run across the meadows!

Evensong

Shrill

Inarticulate warbles

Muted in passage through walls

And woods.

Anger

Understood by tone

And cadence long before

Any sound clarifies to coherent

Words

Heat

Beat

hasty

Retreat

Words

Pulse

Thrumming temples

Dread descends with every step

Upward to that door

Where home fires burn

Doorknob

Chill beneath palm

Hand lingers

Warming brass

As crass language

And rage harass

His tired dragging ass

Inhalation

Exhalation

Knob turning

Welcome

Home

Failing Dams

Propelled irresistibly 

Downstream, caught,

 An unstoppable flood.

Images flash,

Uprooted trees,

Lost in the maelstrom.

Swirling flotsam, jetsam,

Tattered bits 

shattered pieces

all once held dear.

Beloved people, 

Untethered from context

Favorite places,

Unstuck from foundations,

Cherish mementos,

Unshelved from order.

Rolling downstream,

Dooming all ahead,

More weight behind

This churning mass.

Driving inexorably

 toward quiet peace

in endless, silent seas.

Just In The Doldrums

Somewhere in this sargasso mind

Floats just the jetsam that I need.

The task at hand is just to find

That bit among this tangled weed.

There I spy a piece of dross

I needed just a day ago.

Just what for, I’m at a loss,

I’ll take it with me even so.

Perhaps just having it at hand

Will provide the needed spark.

As I bend to rinse it free of sand,

At just that moment, I spy the shark.

In my hands, I find a gaff

“Just what I need”, I think, and laugh!