Scratch the Surface

A fragile crust of civility and
Self-satisfaction.
Practiced posturing.
Faces contorting laboriously,
Success stories volleyed
Back and forth, each more
Ungracious than the last, an
Ostentatious display of nihility.
Settling into oversize furniture,
Numbing drinks in hand, a
Selective catalog of books by
Small spewing minds, an
Overweening intimation of depth.
A flurry of strained graciousness,
High-school like social disgraces.
Scratch the surface to reveal
Festering unease.

Misgivings

He throws his entire
History, and that of
People like him, into
The abyss because
His compulsion to please his
Oppressors is stronger
Than his ability to
Fight for decency.

Late at night,
When it’s too quiet to
Ignore his misgivings,
Unpleasant thoughts
Permeating his spirit,
He fights back
Tears of rage,
Permanently suppressed.

Furthering the aims
Of persecutors who could
Not care less for him,
Or anyone vaguely
Resembling him,
To be discarded like
Rubbish when he’s
No longer useful.

Generations

Everyone could see it was over
From the moment they walked in,
Sat down, looked at their hands and
Exchanged silence heavy and
Uncomfortable. Nobody said anything,
Including them, and no one would for
Eternity and then some, perpetuated in
Forthcoming generations.

I Turned My Back

I turned my back
On art and she,
Knowing more than me,
Waited patiently while
I sorted things out,
Struggling day to day,
Existing as another
Until I finally
Saw her as she
Had always been.

Defined

Defending the vulnerable,
Not because he craves
Accolades or seeks to
Reserve a special place in
A public square with his
Name on it, but due to
His unshakable belief in
The human spirit and the
Resplendence of forgiveness,
Compassion, the realization
That no one is defined by
A single act but rather
Where their promise lies.

Not a Care in the World

Sneaking in with more than
A little help from his cronies,
He proceeds to destroy
Everything in sight,
Glorifying stupidity,
Exalting anti-intellectualism,
Wrecking the most basic
Of institutions, replacing them
With phony facades,
Watching with glee as the
Lemmings jump off the cliff,
Retiring to enjoy a
Lavish lifestyle funded by
The blood of many locked away in
Offshore bank accounts,
Not a care in the world.

From Nothing

From nothing, something beautiful,
Vulnerable, sublime and extraordinary.
Venture where others dare not travel
For fear of encountering hidden
Truth. Thrive on tenuous line, between
Reality and imagination. One moment
Here, the next vanishing, replaced
By new creations born from suffering,
Discomfort, confusion, ecstasy.

Disheartening Disappointment

Trying to revive,
Relive, reproduce,
The past too easily
Becomes a disheartening
Disappointment, what promised
To be so magical supplanted by
A cold slap of reality,
Reverie interrupted,
Fragments scattering,
Never to be recovered
No matter how hard
One searches.

One Small Man

One small man jumped on another
Man’s back and started pointing out
The imperfections he noticed.

One small man scrutinized another
Man’s face and told him he was
OK looking at best.

One small man picked at another
Man’s scabs, reopening the lacerations
That had been healing.

One small man laughed at another
Man’s mistakes and went home
To an empty interior.