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.
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.
Where is the healing
in base iconoclasm
even if the idols suck?
~
Sometimes we have to
say no to beliefs that cause
pain before we can start to heal.
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.