Of course his racism affects, or will affect, all of us in some way. Only time will tell how deeply.
Stand up, speak up, don’t let the bullies win.
Month: November 2016
Who Did You Become?
On 11/9/2016
Who did you become?
A boaster, bragger
instant tagger
c’mon can’t we get
along?
Or a nervous wreck
jumping at shadows
bad dreams of
four long
years to come?
a silenced nightmare
holding back
salty tears of
frustrated
rage,
or an anointer,
bring it on,
free the monster
from his
cage.
The Monster in the Room
In case this is too subtle for you, it’s Trump.
Snapshot #58
These are my walking shoes. They’re so ugly, they’re cute. Or are they, as I call this one, “Just Ugly?” Regardless, they’re comfortable.
Heavy Metals
like lead, Pb and J
feet dragging between
two pieces of white bread
mercury rising
density be damned,
but what about
bismuth, you wonder,
good old eighty-three.
Studly’s New Toy
Studly Doright thought I should share photos of his new toy. It’s a ’72 model 350 Yamaha R5, a two cylinder, two stroke. He bought it for himself and then told me it was his birthday present from me. That’s how you cut out the middle man. Or middle woman, in this case.
It needs a bit of TLC, so I’ll be supervising the work. I do have a stake in the thing, after all.
Peace, people.
Snapshot #57
Studly Doright came home from work this afternoon and dropped this packet into my lap. I’m calling this, “Instant Mood Lifter!”
The Rake or the Leaf
I’ve been a rake
Forcing fallen leaves into crisp piles
Mounds of gold and rust
Scooped into brown bags and left beside autumn’s curbs.
No amount of diligence
Insures the capitulation of every frond
Some will take flight
In frantic whorls, escaping thus from gravity’s laws.
As an implement of control
My sense of failure knows no limits
In my future guise
I will cling to the oak tree immune to
season’s demands.
Snapshot #56
I looked over at my Indiana Jones action figure before getting into bed last night. He said, “Damn, Girl, I Like Those Pink Pajamas.”
Finding Ropes
hanging in there,
or hanging up
twisting strands
in idle thought
hemp or nylon
hangman’s choice
to succor those
without a voice
decisive action
in tying knots
warm salt tears
obscure the plot
neither painless
nor a graceful act
release the hatch
reduce the slack
Praying for Eyebrowz 