The point of it all.

I'm tired of being called racist because of my skin color.
I'm tired of being called ignorant because my viewpoint differs from yours.
I'm tired of using labels to justify and vilify.
I'm tired of building walls held together by excuses and fears.
I'm tired of a civilization that needs to lash out to be civil.
Take my hand.
Walk with me.
Talk with me.
Listen to me.
Let me hear you.
Let me work to understand you.
Let go of me so I can share what I learned from you with someone else.

Poem

I have a little secret,
I would like to share it with you.
I hate humanity,
with good reason, too.
You see we hurt each other,
no matter what we do.

We presume to know
that what is good for ourselves
is what's best for the rest.
So we seek out assurance
by setting up test after test.
To weed out the infidels
and calm our fears.

If I didn't do this,
What else could I do?
Let you see behind the curtain,
To know that I am hurt, too?

An Election Year Poem

A Poem, March 26, 2016

Sauerkraut colostomy
feasting on sunshine.
Cuddle up against
your teddy bear of fear.
Lock yourself in
the closet of ignorance.
Bind your mind with
the chains of intolerance.

Stand the words of
your prophet on their head.
Justify your antithetical behavior
with the sayings of religion.
Find the hate in words of love
to save a few dollars at the store.
Megalomaniacs are eating politicians
as a symbol of freedom.

The walls are Tumbling up,
the gates are closing in
celebration of openness.
The Man riding a burrow
carries a briefcase and
Does a statistical analysis
to measure the belief of the faithful.

The poor are atmosphere.
The disenfranchised are collateral damage.
In the Marketing War for your soul.
The draft board infiltrates your screens.
Your deployment orders are songs in the air.

You can turn in product points
for a free fear blanket.
Don't share it with anyone
that is not one of us.
They can get their own
if they just sell their soul for product points.

Why are you sitting there naked
with that ridiculous smile?
Have you not been listening
to a word that I have said?
Wait until we start funding
the regulators again.
They’ll want you as one
of their first cases
unless you do as I say.

The Demolition of Silence

Some days I want
to break down and cry.
Destroying the silence
that I feel in and around me.
My sobs, like wrecking balls
Smashing large holes,
My wails cutting through
the silent supports.
My moans detonating in
the silent foundation.
My expectation of connecting
to another person
as the structure of silence
crumbles around me.
The demolition of silence falling,
while its’ dust rises
in the rays of the sun.
Who's there?
Who heard me?
Was it you?

Time what has become of you?

Time stalks you.
It drives by your house
slowly on a Friday night
playing "your" song.

Time hides in the bushes
and the bullrushes,
Giggling.

Time knows that
you can't ignore it.

It swoons  you.
It lulls you,
into a passive state.

Then you snap
out of it
and you realize
that you are now chasing Time.

You hiding in the bushes
and bullrushes, wheezing.

You want to drive by
Time's house,
playing "your" song,
longing for more.

Weeping

My soul weeps
whenever you're around.
My mind sleeps
whenever you're around.

My heart breaks
and tumbles to the ground.
The romance inside
spilling out on the ground.

You've taken me hostage
Ground my joy into sausage.
carving out a larger cavern in my soul.
emptying me out, you sad little troll.

One day I woke up

One day, I woke up
wanting to be a smartass,
Only I was too stupid
to realize it.

The Hole in Your Soul

The joy of your youth had a hole ripped in it under the guise of love.

The decision of how you should define love was made for you by others.

It was made out of the fear and ignorance of what others knew.

They wanted you to know the fear and ignorance they saw.

They wanted to know that they were not alone in what they saw and felt.

So they did it to you to protect you.

They gave you the first wound, so you knew it was a wound.

In the ecstasy of self-awareness, they forgot what they did, so they repeated it again and again.

Until they knew that you knew that they knew too.

And they said they were sorry.

And you were left with a gaping hole in your life, that you try not to fall through.

You try to hide it. You try to fix it. You try not to fall through it while others watch because they will see you and judge you. 

They will try to save you as a way to save themselves. Their fears will make them ignorant of you and your hole. They will rip the hole bigger with the best intentions of making it smaller.

Then you will not know where the hole is and it will swallow you.

Falling in to the darkness of your soul. The despair, the pain, the blindness, the numbness all wrap themselves around you.

They squeeze you tight. So tight that you stop the fight and continue to fall.

Then you stop. Stop caring. Stop feeling.

Then you stop falling.

You open your eyes, brush yourself off and stand up in the hole in your soul.

You find the feelings, the fears have gone. Leaving you with the hole in your soul,
that you try not to fall in, again.

Reach Out To Love

Reach Out To Love

Reach out your hand to love,
get it shoved away.
Reach out your hand to love,
get it slapped away.
Reach out your swollen hand to love,
get it crushed.
Reach out your gnarled hand to love,
get it burned.
Reach out your charred hand  to love,
get it burned.
Reach out your charred stump to love,
get it touched and caressed.

I'm Only As Smart As My Stupidity Allows.

So today I found a notebook of mine. It was from 1981 to 1982. It basically covers my post high school summer through my college freshman Spring term; age 17 and 18. Yes, thanks to odd enrollment rules (having to be age 6 by January 1 of the school year), and probably my ability to drive my parents bonkers, I graduated high school at age 17. This fact makes the stuff in this notebook potentially more embarrassing.

So I risked potentially fatal embarrassment and peeked inside the cover. Atop the first page I saw "The Air Head Girls." It is a poem and overwhelmed me with embarrassment. I wondered what kind of idiocy that I had scribbled in this notebook. I am going to wait to find out more until I begin trying to decipher my teenage handwriting and type them up.

Maybe I should figure out if I should go back in time and smack myself in the head for this embarrassing idiocy or pat myself on the shoulder for being so vulnerable, even if thirty three years later this stuff confuses me beyond my years of experience. All I know is that, if I ever publish this stuff, it is going to be titled "I'm Only As Smart As My Stupidity Allows."

I stand

I stand

Upon a precipice?
In a queue?
For something so I don’t fall for anything?
On my own two feet?
Thanks to someone who did something for me?
Behind someone who needs support?
Because I learned something?

I stand.

Poem for the day

There Are Days

by Paul Ewert

There are days that I want to curl up in a ball

And lie still, quiet and do nothing at all.

Feel the hurts inside my head

Rolling around in misery, despair and dread.

 

Then it occurs to me that this is exactly

What my assailants wanted to do to me.

To put me down, degrade me

make me less than human

 

To give in and accept defeat, allows them to win

To continue to stuff my humanity in

To deny my beauty, my strength, my mind, my heart

Let’s them trip me up as each day starts.

 

Yet the Me that I hold back is the very thing

That they sought to attack.

My life is my own, no one abuses and hurts me

I choose to live my life and break free

 

It has been said that “living well” is the best revenge.

Not allowing a setback to determine my whole life

Not making for me misery and daily strife.

The secret leaks out in my actions and words

But I shall conquer fear, despair and doubt undeterred.

I shall turn the other cheek

Not mocking or damaging the quiet and the meek.

 

For they too have their lives to live,

Their wellness to maintain

Their hearts, minds, beauty and strength

Shining bright possibly burning out an emotional stain.

 

I am but one being, one gift from God

Who had been through much

And down many paths have trod.

Those things have been exposed to my soul

My bright, strong, helpful, compassionate soul

I can only see what I have around me,

But my actions have consequences

And I make them to be the best

Not only for myself, but for others

Who have passed me by

And go bouncing and interacting

In my wake.

 

Let the bright days begin

Pass the sorrows and fears in to the refuse bin.

For my heart fills with joy

My mind with fills with peace

My humanity again blooms

Because Life will never cease.

 

It's not you.

People look at me
Ask what'm I gonna do
I stop, Look at 'em
Say 'Oh no, not you"

People look at me
Ask what'm I gonna do
I stop, Look at 'em
Say 'Oh no, not you"

People look at me
Ask what'm I gonna do
I stop, Look at 'em
Say 'Oh no, not you"

People look at me
Ask what'm I gonna do
I stop, Look at 'em
Say 'Oh no, not you"

..... um, yeah......

I have seen the human soul,
Its' intentions and motivations
Both warm and cold.

The fabric of the cosmos
Shaped in human form
Light and dark given mass.

I have seen holes torn
in your soul and mine
Whose edges are tattered and ragged
Or meticulously sharp and fine.

As if damaged by carelessness
and happenstance, while others have
Been assaulted by malice most  precise.

Burdens borne with dignity and strength casting light on those
crushed with embarrassment and shame.

The voices raised shouting
"You know you're just like me!"
over the raspy whispers of "NEVER AGAIN."