Equality

I say with a sigh, blood is not nobility

count how oft’ the Red Queen cries

“Off with his head”, she hardly says 

anything else–  Power ‘tis said 

Twists ladies as men turning them quite 

 

                      Bellicose,

 

Blood’s no guarantee nobles will lead 

To better or worse shifting us either way

 

It’s red

                          with/out gender

 

We favor no crown, no throne, no aristocracy

We got revolution, remember, we can still march to the sea.

 

sun-and-moon

A sign protesting a recent North Carolina law restricting transgender bathroom access in Durham, North Carolina

Gun Violence & Other Madness

The cat chases its tail, the dog whimpers in sleep,

The heart skips a beat…

It’s not a nightmare, not a movie, a TV show.

 

Wake when you will, but where will you be, in bed alone,

In the den, your unknowing hand holding a gun,

At your desk starting at nothing?

 

It doesn’t matter—Looking deeply matters:

Unless you turn it inside out, look long at what you find

The mind eludes the eye of reason.


Recall the flowers of betrayal and delusion with merciful disregard,

Struggle all your life to save this dying thing

This beaten, bloody thing called love.

 

For the tail is chasing the dog,

The cat is barking in sleep, the heart is cracking

Hope is a Gypsy song rising over the ash of Auschwitz

 

Mad men rule the world—


And if they wake from a coma of hate, will they give a vision truth?

Will they feed the poor, give up peace?

When will your heart slow to a murmur and hiss into silence?

 

I want to say the cat is calm, the dog is happy, humankind is wise and kind,

But the cat is gnawing the cage, the dog is humming a dirge,
The good flower columbine was never a flock of doves:

 

Littleton, Kosovo, Dachau, Wooded Knee, Kabul, Santa Fe, El Paso:

Large extensions of the fist we use to abuse the children—

Where next the murder of the day, massacre of the week, 

Where next the World War?

The heart is failing, the heart is failing, there are no known donors.

 

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Parable of the Fisherman

for Sierra Golden

When the fisherman camped along the lake
an inner waterfall
spilled over him, how deep it runs
in blood and bone
the oneness of our kind
as if the heart posed the question
What then makes us different?
Not so much not even personality.
It’s extreme love and hate
the sea of emotions between the two
makes the individual unique
but the measure of humanity for him
moved more in one direction,
how much we care for others beings
no matter how they are–
It is written love your neighbor, strangers
love your enemies,
love and do as you please
but the man who inspired it later was a god–
The fisherman stopped thinking
took out the hook of doubt
sure as you or I he’d never fill that job
geared up his boat, brought home seven trout.

 

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If You Believe Everything You’re Told

Lightning can’t strike the same place twice, there’s a reason

for everything that happens

God’s got a plan

you were born with a spoon and a slap

Just like everyone else

You see some things 

others don’t

some never see at all,

Seriously ugly unreasonable shit reappearing

Bad bent pennies repeating

Unruh – Whitman – the Night Stalker – Son of Sam

Adam la la Lanza

Aileen Wuornos – Cho Seung hui -The Zodiac

John Allen Muhammad, oh yeah

we fear and fancy our killers

make ’em Hollywood thrillers

they make us feel so sad so alive but we can’t

let go our fucking AK-15s

Would be UnAmerican, they’re so much fun for the kids

especially the boys,

we put meat on the table with ’em

like the Donner Party did,

They save lives

like Charlie Manson’s  family carving knives.

 

 

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Greyscale
I live in the Eye of a Hurricane.

 

 

The Tree

Buddha before enlightenment starved bony looking in the moment for a way out
the joy and pain the universal law at the center in the chaos in and around him
 

knowing we all wait under a spreading tree

the return of turtles setting eggs in sand

salmon roiling upriver to spawn

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sea lions   fleeing the orca 

And human life – cirriped on the fin of a whale 

ephemeral song in the ocean of space-time 

 

Glint on a globe severed head on sand bright knife blood on a terrorist’s hand– we know not when but live for one instant, Enlightenment–  

Love pales in comparison under a bodhi tree.     

 

 

The-Tree-of-Life   

Everything I Own, a Dystopian Dream

My slut-desire for a bankroll of love, movie line wait for true romance
Hourglass heart running out of sand, twittered intention to end hunger,
My cell phone ringing mass murder, Buddha-delusion to heal the mind
Prophetic wisdom on a fool’s errand, tabloid wish to be some super hero
Dildo desire to fuck Mr. Trump, glittering cities on buffalo bones, soul
On the altar of power and beauty, Alt-Right nose up the low racist ass
Anarchist answers to old questions, disaster aid on misanthrope Visas

Our house of cards with the usury windows, big wheels claim to Jesus
Monitor heads blinking with cancer, a Starbucks cup full of dead poems
Sex Pistols fist on a Mozart cock, pornographic priest with his boy stars
Pig hooves on the backs of the poor, bump car pillows, insomniac beds
Kids in mind numbing debt– but is there hope for us? Toxic rainbows
With peak-oil pots, the Religious Right making ISIS tanks and bombs
Saintly ideals with demonic halos, yes, we are great, the new Babylon.

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The poem above first appeared on Poetry Super Highway: http://poetrysuperhighway.com/psh/2018/02/poetry-brittany-shea-rayn-roberts/