Ten million people

killed by machete

The Congo a hemorrhage

of human despair

 

Ten million people

whose carcasses rotting

In jungles of torment

— and life’s disrepair

 

(The New Room: September, 2025)

The rivers of our persuasion

empty

into an ocean of solitude

 

Leading the swift current

over the rapid shoals

— to greater and greater depths

 

(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)

There was a time

when my vision was raw

but my words

were riper still

 

There was a time

before there was pain

with the weather

never chill

 

There was a time

when the wind called my name

zephyrs

 fresh and new

 

There was a time

with my feelings in song

in love with the moment

— and you

 

(Perelman Center: September, 2025)

 

 

Leavened unleavened

risen and stayed

Lost when recovered

joyful dismay

 

Intrinsic extrinsic

the whole without parts

Tomorrow this moment

stopping to start

 

Benign and bedeviled

revealed yet unseen

A valid deception

blessed but obscene

 

The past and the future

hello and goodbye

Affirming rejection

— all truth to belie

 

(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)

 

 

The raw material

of America

intrinsically damned

Its nature

and character

lost out of hand

 

Divisive

vindictive

self-interest gone wild

A narcissists

graveyard

— misused to beguile

 

(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)

 

Materializing

memory

photos on the wall

Immortalizing

tomorrow

vision to recall

Prescience

in the offing

feelings coming home

Sentience

remaking

— that forever known

 

 

(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)

 

Truth is an orphan

alone in the wind

License for others

who hide from within

 

Facing the storm

without fear or excuse

A guardian steps forward  

— with hope to infuse

 

(To Charlie Kirk: September, 2025)

 

Treating

the symptoms

ignoring

the cause

The outcome

redundant

all change

stuck on pause

 

The people

the problem

the root

of the pain

No law

or restriction

can change

DNA

 

Our values

on fire

from those

who are lost

They hate

with an ignorance

perdition

defrosts

 

You can’t make

an omelet

with eggs

that won’t fry

And you can’t save

the farm

feral pigs

— in the sty

 

(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)

A river of

redemption

waiting beyond

These shallows

of torment

and rocks devil spawned

With rapids

approaching

white water ahead

Their nature

and prophecy

fueling the dread

As speed

is increasing

its roar on the rise

The falls

of the Jordan

— to live or to die

 

(Snake River ‘Lunch Counter:’ September, 2020)

Short

is most sweet

when the sugar

is pure

Its message

like honey

when added

to lure

The Mime

as your server

with candy

implied

Truth

in the tasting

its richness

— to hide

 

(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)