Hurricane relief?

Why bother when there are so

many jets to charter?

~

If we took those jets

and flew them ’round hurricanes,

the cash would be better spent.

Sometimes a respite

at exactly the right time

can recharge flagging passions

~

The wise among us

know that sometimes a white flag

is no sign of surrender.

Sometimes even the

best of us draws a blank. We’ll

let the reader complete this piece.

~

When we’re heading down

familiar paths that lead to

 pain, what helps us turn around?

~

Agony’s byway

has so many deep worn ruts,

breaking free is quite the chore.

How can we keep track

of the constant info flood

without some medication?

~

 We must build dikes to

 keep the floods at bay and thus

halt the need for med-evacs.

When the seductive

siren of self-aggrandizement

calls, what will help us hang up?

~

Answering machines

help us to avoid the calls

of unsavory critters.

As chaos fosters

rhetoric more bellicose,

can we step back from the brink?

~

You’ve got the order

wrong. As rhetoric grows more

bellicose, chaos ensues.

e

Why can’t we see Truth

even when it stands before

us glowing with light?

~

Often glowing truths

are really will o’ the wisp

hastening us to our doom.

We choose our focus.

Will it be thorns or blossoms

or the value of both?

~

Both the bloom and thorn

serve a unified purpose:

assuring reproduction.

Merry-go-round or

suspended rollercoaster,

hang on, here we go again.

~

 When everything’s in

a spin, it’s hard to see when

or how it will end.

Both in the same day

I was given the finger

and lent a kind hand.

~

He who flicks you off

is not, necessarily,

kinder than the hand lender.

When routine becomes,

first, ritual then, boring,

how do we re-energize?

~

It’s our state of mind,

not ritual or routine,

that’s the energy drainer.

“Sticks and stones may break

my bones, but words will never

hurt me.” Huh? Seriously?

~

Not all injury

involves a broken body

or the letting of some blood.

When drama erupts

into seething misery,

how can we bank the fires?

~

Consoling words and

tears, genuine and deeply

felt, can sometimes help.

With Autumn’s approach

and things kicking into gear

what will help us as we steer?

~

Some would rather sneer

and kick the bloody tires

than drive on into winter.

Cesar Chavez reaps

renown from all the labors

of Dolores Huerta.

~

As the saying goes,

“In front of every great woman

is a man blocking her from view”.

Are we there yet – that

place where we longed to go? Did

it turn out to be right here?

~

Endlessly trekking,

 seeking a greener pasture;

a sure way to miss the truth.

With things spiraling

ever farther from control,

should we name it Hurricane?

~

Better yet, let’s name

it Himicane or even

plain old Raising Cain.

Who is the “real” man;

He who does it all himself?

He who knows to ask for help?

~

A real man asks for

help when he needs it and gives

help when he can.

To freely give and 

fully receive, must not our

hearts and minds be open?

~

Openness is key

to freeing long shackled hearts

and thawing frozen bias.

By any measure,

regardless of the yardstick,

He still comes up… short.

~

By short do you mean

small – in many more ways than

those infamous hands?

How will we explain

to our children’s children the

neglect of our earth mother?

~

Our children’s children

may have much more on their mind

than our lame apologies.

This truth is stranger

than the strangest of fictions;

nothing trumps reality

~

Nothing could very

well be our illustrious

president’s reality.

As Fall approaches

what wise words will carry us

valiantly to Spring?

~

We welcome winter

as more hurricanes approach

and flood waters still subside.

How can we believe

everything is beautiful

as the whole world burns?

~

Exaggerations

leave us a legacy of

ugly, partial truths.

When we consider

the impermanence of things,

do we find hope or despair?

~

Buddha would teach us

to meet each transient grief

with an ephemeral joy.

Can one be depressed,

even on this rainy day,

since it’s dry inside?

~

Singing in the rain,

they know moods aren’t dependent

on weather and place.

Do you think it’s true

we most appreciate light

when it’s the darkest of nights?

~

There is no mistake;

in the deepest, darkest, night

any little light is bright.

He can not reach out,

offers no comforting touch,

a stranger to empathy.

~

Let’s turn from him and

focus on the compassion

each of us can bring.