He acts tough,
Brash, invincible,
Perpetually
Fake optimistic,
Because that’s
What he thinks
People want to see.
He forgets that
It means more to
Be vulnerable,
Courageously looking
Inward to find and
Reveal his true self,
Unadulterated.
I wish I could convince him
That things don’t have to
Be this way, that we could
Make the world a less
Hard and cruel place than
It sometimes is, that
Everything could be better
If fewer people heeded the
Call of fear, anger, avarice,
And became open to love.
He’s mortally afraid
That they’ll
Take away
What he has.
He’s indignant
That they’ll get
Something for free
And he won’t.
He writhes at the
Thought of someone
Undeserving usurping
His position.
He fights vociferously
When it’s even
Remotely suggested
That he share.
A social conscience
As yet undeveloped,
Living only
For himself.
He didn’t realize
What he had said,
He never did,
But she knew, and
It increased the
Already vast space
Between the two,
Each in his or her
Own part of the
Universe, going
About life.
A moment’s pause,
The realization that
It’s okay to talk about it
And explore even the
Most difficult aspects
Of the matter,
That the world will
Not come to an end,
The tides will not stop,
We will both still be alive,
Yet imbued with greater
Knowledge and understanding,
That much closer to
What is to come.
She nonchalantly
Repeats the word:
Thugs.
It reverberates
With visceral
Effectiveness.
Countless minds
Racing to
Ruthless judgment.
The relentless
Tyranny of
Loaded language.
Many years passed and
There arose the dismaying
Realization that they
Had never reflected on
Anything, reconsidered
Their actions, grown
In any way, understood
The implications of
What they did; if anything,
It had become worse,
Setting the stage for
Chronic stuntedness.
She toiled in obscurity
For many years and
Suddenly became an
Overnight success.
Where before she couldn’t
Even give away her talent,
Now there was not enough
Of it to satisfy the
Clamoring masses hungry
For a piece of her magic.
She remembers all the
Years of struggle,
Laments the countless
Millions who haven’t yet
Been discovered,
Understands the fleeting
Nature of fame,
The role of chance,
The risk of forgetting
What really matters.
Meeting at a business mixer,
Exchanging half smiles,
Striking up a conversation
About a mutually shared
Interest, profession.
After only a few sentences,
The insecurity kicks in,
Denigrating what the other does
To make oneself feel better,
More important.
Cycle of pathetic competition,
Broken people stepping on
Each others’ heads to
Continue avoiding
Looking inward.
You’ll find it
At the top of the hill,
In that house no one
Lives in anymore,
Where that one family
Nobody talks about
Endured all those
Unmentionable things,
Collective loss of
Memory, the weight of
What we actually are.
They are entrusted
With the responsibility
Of governing, moving
The country forward.
They commence their
Solemn duty with the
Only thing that makes
Any sense to them:
Steeply boosting funding for
Waging war and drastically
Cutting programs that
Help the poor.
Waking up, another
Fear-infested day,
Reading the headlines
Stemming directly from
His own toxicity,
Him, there but for
Circumstance, separation of
Only moment and location,
Already part of the
Horror, anticipating the
Inevitable conclusion.
Something happens at some point,
A troubling change of demeanor,
The life leaves her eyes,
Optimism and hope succumb to
Baser beliefs inculcated long ago
And exploited anew more recently,
The need to be loved erasing
Reason, empathy, decency.
An unsettling timbre infiltrates
Her voice, a syrupy monotone
Masquerading as moderation.
She aligns herself with her oppressors,
Sympathizing with their plight,
Helping to promote a false narrative
Shamelessly smeared with fear and hate.
She loses her self,
Becoming a champion for injustice,
Reveling in the calculated support
She receives from the darkness.
They see her coming, they always do.
A ragtag group of
People unhappy with
Where the country is going
Assemble to voice
Their anger at a
System that has
Let them down.
Waving flags,
Chanting slogans,
United in their vitriol,
They rail against
The people who aren’t
Making their lives
More difficult.
In a Swiss bank account
A tidy fortune slumbers,
Carefully tucked in
By one of the few
Who betrays the trust
Of the many, turning them
Against their only allies.
I can’t memorize
Anything to save my life,
Can’t recite poetry
Off the top of my head
To impress a crowd or
Advance in academia,
But I innately understand
The feelings a work evokes,
And what it means
On a deeper level,
That’s where I live,
Short on specifics,
A form of perception
Beyond particular words.
Each day he visits
The same store,
Hoping she’ll be there
So they might share
Some small talk about
The weather or what’s
Going on around town.
It’s been like this
For almost a year,
Smiles and pleasantries
Exchanged briefly.
Since she was
A little girl,
She’s been told
That this is
What she should
Behave like,
And this is what
She should look like,
And this is whom
She should marry,
And this is what
She should wear,
And that this
Is her lot in life.
As soon as
She possibly can,
She leaves it all
Behind for the joy of
Self-determination and
The freedom to celebrate
Who she really is and
Follow her own rules.
Family reunion,
Everyone looks happy,
All the guys
Standing by the barbecue
One-upping each other,
All the women in
The kitchen talking
About the men,
Kids running around,
Underlying misery.
He can choose
Any path really,
His wealth allows him
To pretty much do
Whatever he wants,
Whenever he wants,
In any way
He wishes to.
It’s not so hard
To make someone
Else’s life a
Little easier,
More rewarding,
Worthwhile,
Empires can be built
With kindness,
Sharing doesn’t have
To be an expletive.
He elects to
Pay low wages.
I keep wishing he
Would keep his beliefs
To himself, but he
Confidently opens and
Closes his mouth without
Ever a second thought,
Making sure everyone
Knows exactly what he
Deems to be true,
Consistently demonstrating
How little he comprehends,
One person too many
In an elevator.
You can see it coming,
Accompanying some
Everyday event and,
Predictably, becoming
Like every other thing
In his life—overly
Complicated by an
Entrenched inability to
Admit that he doesn’t
Know everything,
Fearing he’ll be
Exposed.
Deprived of the love
He needed when he
Was growing up,
He’s now unable to
Feel it for anyone else,
Including himself,
His life a caustic
Ordeal of ire
Accompanied by wretchedness,
Although, if you ask him,
He’ll assure you he’s happy.
Beat mercilessly
As a child,
Belittled,
Minimized,
Robbed of any sense
Of self-love,
He gravitates toward
Others with
Similar wounds.
They form a
Movement of
Violent hatred,
Subjugating other
Human beings,
Killing undesirables,
Craving the fleeting
Feeling of power,
Never satisfied.
A cult psychosis,
Collective hypnosis,
Fabricating a false
History, distorting
The truth, exorcising
Personal demons by
Trying to take over
The world instead of
Healing themselves.
So we start the same
Way we always have,
Following some kind of
Haphazard script
Severely limiting what
Can be said, adhering
To arbitrary rules
Imposed by fear and
Secrecy, meant to
Discourage any meaningful
Conversation or resolution.
Seeing an old photo,
Remembering what it felt
Like to exist then,
The relentless
Inner bewilderment,
Ruthless untruths
Forcing me to be
Someone else,
Voices other than mine.
This part of town
Isn’t the same as
It used to be,
Gradually life has
Supplanted decay,
Introducing a new
Vibrancy and energy
Where once only
Shadows existed,
Though one can’t help
Wonder what happened
To the people who
Used to live around here.
A fragile blue sphere
Drifting in an endless
Field of stars,
Not a single
Nation discernible,
No one person
More important
Than another,
Petty squabbles
Rendered insignificant.
Each of us an
Improbable,
Precious passenger
Navigating the
Vastness of space.
Sitting on a bench
In a garden,
Looking out over
A placid pond,
He wonders whether
It might have
Been different,
Memory embellishing
What never was.
In a small town
Bereft of opportunity,
He wanders slowly
Toward school,
Stopping along the
Way to throw rocks
At various things,
Smack light poles
With his skateboard.
At some point during
The day, the guidance
Counselor will confront
Him about his many
Absences and force
Another lengthy lecture
On him, all about how
He’s throwing his
Future down the drain.
At home, his mother
Screams at her
Latest boyfriend,
The one she chooses
Over him all the time.
He dreams of a day
When he can get away,
Have a room of his own,
Forget everything.
He visits once
In a while,
Our friend the
Squirrel.
We’re not sure
Where he lives but
It’s always a
Happy day when
He stops by.