Was is Hope

Scattered thoughts

in worry’s kettle

they boil, bubble

and test your mettle


Your day gets buried

by tomorrow

Deep distress

morphs into sorrow

Sorrow blooms

into despair

With eyes shut tight

you cut your hair

You live your days

in underwear

Stained coffee cups

are everywhere


The blinking light’s

unanswered calls

Just windows, ceiling,

and four walls

Kitchen trash

and rotting fruit

Dirty laundry

crumpled suit


Gripped by it

it sticks like tape

Thoughts are formed

and then take shape

So, you plan and plot

your great escape


Then . . .

The sun

Seeps through

the blinds one day

Her emergence

takes your breath away

You brush your teeth

You comb your hair

A welcome break

from your despair

You hope it lasts;

you pray it does

Then it dawns on you

That hope is “was”


Because . . .

“was” is change

always pending

A twisting road

unknown and bending

I was depressed

it went away

It stuck to me

but did not stay

It will return

of this I’m sure

Because was is was

it’s not a cure


Still,

keep “was” close

in your darkest hour

Because “was” is hope

and hope is power

Chrome Covered Rosebuds and Dyslexic Daisies

Chrome covered rosebuds and dyslexic daisies

Dirt-devil divas and wombats with rabies

Blue bloodless fem-bots

that drop from the sky

Misogyny dies in the blink of an eye


Dipshits in red hats with white MAGA letters

Grunge bands with new tats of Cobains and Vedders

Palm trees and face plants

a rip in the sky

Ginger loves Mary Ann’s Coconut pie


Deep-seated distrust and misinformation

Biscuits with deadbolts and sex doll inflation

Mad rants and just cants

a flask full of lies

The truth falls asleep to our sad lullabies


Sinatra and Martin, Carson and Rickles

Bone chips on blood-stained pennies and nickels

Douchebags and despots

About to ally

To map out our lives on the wings of a fly

Fearing Life

Life

A crooked path before us

 A ragged race we run

A 9-to-5 grind-to-dust

To keep pace with everyone


We take some time to breathe

A few weeks every year

Before getting back to life

That’s often ruled by fear


Fear about finances

Fear about jobs

Fear about COVID

and Fascist-led mobs


Fear about terrorism

the Taliban and ISIS

Fear for America’s Democracy-crisis


Fear for our planet

increasingly warming

Fear of our fear

which is constantly forming


When emersed in fear

We don’t live our life

The roses and sunshine

Give way to our strife

And we just live to survive

On the edge of a knife

Debating the Undebatable

For as long as he can remember, he loved to argue.

He wasn’t sure where this penchant for debate came from.

His mother had firmly held beliefs, but he had no recollection of her engaging others in a passionate discourse about politics or religion, or anything else for that matter. 

His father’s passions revolved primarily around a reclining chair by the fireplace, an after-work scotch on the rocks, and cigars.

He remembers a heated debate with a friend at a sleepover when he was just a kid.

They argued fervently about which baseball league (the National or American) had better players and teams. He remembers being energized by the back-and-forth discussion. He remembers the thrill of responding on-the-fly to his friend’s assertions, countering them with well-thought-out retorts.

That debate dragged into the early-morning hours. The warm stuffy bedroom became thick with a swampy August heat and the two boys’ passion for sports.

Eventually, he and his friend drifted off to sleep, no hard feelings, no carryover.

The arguer never put his love of debate to practical use. He lacked direction and parental guidance. In the absence of a nurturing nudge, his life was shaped primarily by the stance brothers (circum and happen).

Later in life, when jonesing for a debate, he’d engage others over social media, arguing with vigor and passion about politics and religion.

It was from 2016 onward, that the arguer noticed a fundamental change in some of the individuals he debated. Many of them disregarded verifiable facts and truth in favor of falsehoods and outright lies.

So, for example, when the arguer made a declarative statement about Trump supporters attacking the capital on January 6th, some of his friends took this as an invitation to debate.

They argued the attackers were not Trump supporters.

They argued that the attackers were tourists that posed no threat.

They argued against what everyone saw with their own eyes and heard with their own ears.

It was stunning.

A basic premise of debate is that there are facts on both sides of the issue being argued.

The intellectual joy of debating comes from being challenged with factual information that counters your argument. The idea that you’ll be able to convince the person that you’re debating to change their mind (and vice versa) is what made debating so enjoyable to the arguer.

The COVID-19 vaccines are safe and work, is not a debatable statement.

On January 6th, the United States Capital was attacked by Trump supporters at the behest of the defeated former president. This also is not a debatable statement.

Climate change is real and poses a genuine threat to our planet. Again, not up for debate.

The point here is that some issues have been settled definitively by evidence, truth, and facts. But because old habits die hard, the arguer was drawn into debating the undebatable.

The result was exhausting, frustrating, depressing, and ultimately revelatory.

The arguer concluded that America is inundated with millions of willfully disingenuous people who are guided by politics over truth. These people are continuously debating the undebatable with falsehoods, misinformation, and quackery.

This represents a default way of thinking and arguing for nearly half the country, to the chagrin of the arguer.

Because this is all there is

When you reach the end

I hope you had more good times than bad, 

laughed more than you cried, and

loved more than you hated


I hope regrets were few,

achievements many,

and that your wealth

could be measured in smiles


I hope you enjoyed your stay,

were buoyed by happiness,

oxygenated by love,

and were at peace when you left


Because this is all there is

Support the Voting Rights Act

Republicans not supporting the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is an act of self-preservation.

Republicans know that making it easier for black and brown people to vote, makes it harder for Republicans to hold on to their job.

So, rather than engaging black and brown voters and trying to understand issues from their perspective, Republicans are supporting legislative barricades that restrict access to the ballot box and make it harder for black and brown and poorer people to vote.

In America, the gap between “the haves” and “have nots” has a racial element to it and the gap grows wider every day. The truth of the matter is that Democrats are proposing programs to try and stop the gap from growing, while Republicans are fine with the current trend. To put it more bluntly, Democrats are more likely to support programs that help level the playing field, while Republicans long for the good ole days when black and brown people worked in a field.

America’s population is browning.

Republicans see this tinting as a threat to their vision and version of America.

To Republicans, this feels like an ominous fade to black scenario.

And the only way Republicans think they can prevent this from happening is to hinder black and brown people from voting — and that’s what they’re doing by blocking the John Lewis Voting Rights act, while supporting state laws that make it harder for black and brown people to vote.

Republican attacks on voting rights are another shameful assault on our republic and a further tugging on the thread that holds our democracy together.

Trumpocrisy

Concept, american flag on cracked background

The other day, I watched former President Trump praise his relationship with North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Ill in a televised interview.

I listened to the former disgraced and seditious-prick-of-a-president say how well he got along with dictators and autocrats and how he admired their strong leadership.

None of this surprised me.

Trump is an easily manipulated, egotistical fool. Leaders like Kim Jong-Ill and Vlad Putin simply blew a little smoke up the orange one’s undies to court favor with Trump.

What disheartened me most about the interview was the applause from my fellow Americans in the audience.

When did getting along with murderous dictators become a praiseworthy trait in an American president?

Had President Obama or candidate Clinton said anything remotely like this, they would have been crucified by the very same people who were applauding. As Forest Gump would say, Trump supporters and hypocrisy go together like peas and carrots.

Republicans and Democrats have always differed on policy. But when it came to condemning brutal dictators and autocrats, we stood together.

That used to be common ground.

Why is this no longer the case?

What changed?

Well, for one, we had four years of being led by a self-absorbed, morally corrupt, and intellectually vapid president. Trump rose to power by tapping into many Americans’ grievances and fears around race and then, with purposeful malevolence, sold them a solution based on a warped definition of Americanism.

Trump understood that a divided country was his only path to power. So, from the onset of his candidacy, all the way through his presidency, he divided this country.

Five years later, we see the result in a fact-resistant confederacy of MAGA-hat-wearing morons and the cowering politicians who fear them.

Trump and his supporters are the blood in the boner of an alt-right movement in America — and you can’t reason with a boner.

But usually, over time, it subsides on its own.

Hopefully, that happens here.

Gravely Still

Not a single mourner in the mist

No priest to say “And now we pray”

Just a casket

a freshly dug hole

two gravediggers and a crow

Cold enough to see your breath

But warm enough to dodge the mausoleum

No one in attendance

No one to toss that first handful of dirt

signifying the end of earthly ties to the living

I imagine a nattily attired corpse

still able to hear

Weeping at the silence

Embarrassed and dismayed at the poor showing

The muffled mummers

of the two unknown grave diggers

the very last voices he hears

a faint and fading

“Rest in Peace, Bro” followed by

“Do you want to grab a coffee at Dunkin?”

As a smile comes over his face

Relentless Time Regardless

time

We begin life nervously

Waiting in the wings

Queued up and ready to take center stage

Each of us a fragile link

in a fractious chain of humans

We embark on a quixotic quest

for meaning and connection


The thought of our transience

evades us at first

Or maybe we just refuse to let it creep in

We keep those thoughts at bay

We bury them under daily routine

for years at a time

Until we begin to sense

the slowing of the merry-go-round

and we see and feel

the snarled and toothy grin

of the carney worker

All rides must end


We lean hard from our painted ponies

Elbow pit married to the pole

We reach and stretch for the brass ring

And it’s promise of another ride

As if more ride is a cure-all

 it isn’t

As if more time will sand the jagged edge

of disappointment and regret

It won’t.

We don’t need more time.

We need understand how little we have of it