Smiles…

 

 

 

If you could see her smile

no holding back, concern a thing of the past.

Shame no longer a companion,

free to follow her joy.

The miracle of braces

has given me back my little girl.

Grin…

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Hush…

The Bible.

Words to inspire, stories of hope,

a message of inclusion, love unfolding.

Mercy withheld, kept at a price,

available to only those who’ve signed the pledge.

Peaceful teachings tossed aside,

the war machine a new sponsor.

Strange bedfellows, overlook such facts,

a crusade to reclaim, bulldozed by might.

A misquoted verse, proclaimed to advance,

holy mission of destruction, ordered from above.

Sadness the sight of such beautiful words,

used as a whore of one’s pleasing,

while dancing ponies dressed in sparkles distract the ugly truth.

Divide and conquer, the killers shout,

make them like us, red words weep.

Love doesn’t wear a flag nor sing a select song while seeking an enemy.

Hugs to all, make us one.

God says hush!

Chloe and Juicy…

They came home as a pair, not knowing a moment apart,

two adorable kittens, the cutest in the box.

We left that afternoon without the thought of gaining a pet,

damn those pushers sitting in the storefront, furballs crawling in every direction.

Creation holds nothing so cute, the rough tongue licks my face,

children overly entranced, parents easily swayed.

Knowing the work awaiting as kids promises fade,

home these two come, our lives forever changed.

One grew athletic and lean, her sister quite rotund,

little interest indoors, everyday an adventure.

Presents left at our door, their hearts sharing love,

half a bird, part of a rat, of course an unforgettable rabbit.

Years have past and now there is one, the unseparated now apart,

wanders aimlessly, feeling alone.

The collective family lap eases the pain as she purrs away dreaming of better times.

Each day gets a little better.

What if?

Hate consumes the boy, frustration overcomes him,

unable to stop the assault, angst becomes the heart.

Dreams of justice, revenge even with his own hands,

fear of the spiral that follows, inaction allows the suffering to continue.

“Fix me a drink”, the man bellows

slumped in his chair, awareness dissipating.

Mindfully he goes to the cabinet and chooses the exact bottle

careful with the measurements, history as a guide.

Staring at the glass the resentment takes over,

just a pinch of the death forces the hell to take flight.

Carefully stirring, not leaving a trace,

no turning back now, the deed is done.

Proudly the offering is presented, has he gone too far?

Options exhausted, no other choice.

Setting the glass down before the man,

moment of kindness, he offers thanks.

Reaching for the glass, his movements impaired,

spills the drink,”clean this up” speaks evil.

He returns with a towel, the man’s eyes asleep,

inward relief the endeavor not done.

Tomorrow the boy’s horror resumes.

Watching the Clock…

Watching the clock fearing the sweep of the minute hand

as it drew closer to the hour.

Knowing it would be soon time for the man’s return,

an event feared all day.

The hope was he stopped off early and had a sip,

the anger boiled lower if he had.

The sound of those big tires rolling down the street,

even in middle age the sound produces a shudder.

The truck stopped with a quick jerk

in front of the house that wasn’t a home.

Scrambling to find a place to be unnoticed

before the door was thrown open.

Hearing my name called, I fight the urge to pee,

what has set off the man this time?

An unsatisfying job, a family only in name, the hurts of childhood,

each creating an internal boil.

The red eyes betray an uncooled rage tonight not settled by drink.

This is my life, though never able to adjust,

my role as a punching bag, is this my world?

The scars and bruises eventually heal, showing no outward mark,

but inside I scream for it to end.

Public smiles cover the private shame.

Where is God?  I pray daily for the man’s death,

doesn’t He care about me.

Preacher says we each are in His loving hands,

I think he’s full of shit.

The pillowcase covered in tears again,

evil is planted in the heart of the child.

Dreams of violence keep sleep at a distance,

morning provides a new day for the cycle to continue.

Divorce…

What many thought of as a forever love

actually was just a heart on fire.

The commitment vows promising to forever endure,

begin to erase as the fantasy becomes a challenge.

Dreams of together marching into life, a companion always by the side,

change quickly into a combatant with no thought of retreat.

Divorce is the final acknowledgement of what

was overlooked in the pursuit of love.

Truth can be a destructive force, when a lie needs exposing.

Cleansing pain, clearing us to expand and grow into what love truly is.

The lesson of understanding of love’s meaning by first learning what it is not.

Choose growth and live in happiness.

See yourself honestly, not a focus on others.

Evolve, and the page turns,

failure and the story remains the same.

Wash…

So forceful to onslaught, the view outside a hazy blur,

blankets of rain hitting the ground with a sounding force.

Where do the birds and squirrels go

to stay clear of such danger?

Lightning strikes at irregular intervals,

the thunder draws my child close.

Together we watch the new rivers

cascade aggressively down the hill.

A good day for books and board games

as the power is sure to go.

A cleansing wash, however unpleasant,

still needed.

Reflection…

The face stares back blankly,

a reflection seen so often.

Time has evolved the look,

but the eyes maintain a resolve.

Keep the fight for truth alive,

seek not the comfort of the masses.

Act with courage and live boldly,

hold conviction that does not waiver.

Be proud of what the mirror shows,

when the image of self is seen.

The Chase…

A dangerous hobby led to his demise,

today he will play no more.

Not content with chasing a ball or a stick,

cars being more of a challenge.

Never much thought of how to catch the car

just pleasure in the chase.

Today he got too close and the game ended poorly,

The car has a mark to prove it.

Sorry old boy.

Company of No…

 

He fights the urge to engage

as the masses voice their anger.

Everyday another complaint,

can this man do no right?

Distortions and disinformation everywhere,

our President the target of their ire.

A illusionary club to share imposed ideologies

takes them away from reality.

Sight not forthcoming with the constant barrage,

their points falling on deaf ears.

Sounding like upset schoolgirls

who can’t have their own way.

The trap is set as many fall in,

thinking they are part of the solution.

Deeper into the pit of oblivion

the hate takes them.

Comeback and live with love.

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