The End Of Love

I had a dream
in which I was personally witness
to the wars and massacres
around the world,
to the bloodstained greed and lust
backing these atrocities,
to the races spewing hate against hate
while labeling themselves “victim,”
to the injustices against women
and by women,
to the young men who are left affected
with only one way to express their rage,
to the corporations stealing wealth
from those who have little,
to the public further and further divided
along red and blue lines,
to the politicians standing idly by
and allowing all of this,
helping all of this,
for true leadership skill
or at least an ability to care
is lost on them.
And as I was personally witness
to all of this,
out of the corner of my eye,
I noticed a man beside me,
standing tall.
And I turned and looked
and found that it was Jesus.
Not white Jesus, not black Jesus,
not an invented image of Jesus,
but Jesus.
And as I realized
that Jesus had been witnessing
and weeping over
the cruelty of humans,
I asked Jesus,
“When will you return?
When will you come back
to save us?”
And Jesus turned to me,
the tears streaming
like a river through time and space,
and Jesus said unto me,
“Are you kidding?
They would crucify me.”

Speaking of division along red and blue lines…

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Expectation

When it’s time to stop and leave,
it’s hard to believe
there could be anything
better
than
this.

But we’ll only say goodbye
until the very next time
we wander
into
this bliss.

Guilt Wish

You feel it, don’t you?
One event after the next
The flow of things
One tragedy leads to another
and another

And the mournful
shed their tears
as the destructors
boast their joys
You feel it, don’t you?

The tears, the joys
and every attempt you have made
to change nothing

You feel it…
The curses
The prayers
The loss of air
…don’t you?

Don’t you feel sorry
Don’t you dare

A Predator

What is it?
We don’t know.
It arrived not long ago
in these woods.
Leaves a footprint
that’s not human.
And it’s been killin’.
Killed a grizzly with ease,
from what we can tell.

Where did it come from?
Out there,
from somewhere above.
Some bright lights in the sky
preceded the madness.
It was then that people,
random witnesses,
started talkin’ of this
invisible… thing.
You don’t see what’s movin’,
only that somethin’s movin’.
And when it does appear,
that’s when you die.

What does it want?
It’s been shot at
but still keeps comin’,
pursues as you try to run,
tracks you down
wherever you go.

It’s a hunter.

What does it want?
Your head
as its trophy.

A Morning Ponder

Why do we have eyes when we can see with our minds?
…see the world as it should be,
not as it is when our intentions are applied,
the road to Hell paved with our actions to make things better.

What if the better can’t be done by us?
…can only be imagined but not made real,
for if everyone’s reality is different,
then we truly are separate in our separate perspectives.

Who is to blame for the way we are?
…or should blame not be, as useless as it is,
when despair tingles in the minds of the forgotten,
and all that can help them is an imagined world.

Where is this world?
…in a mind’s eye that is only real to one mind,
as if all that is and all that was and all that will be
exists in this solitary universe.

How can there be many universes?
…that scatter in a shared, cold existence lit by one star.
When will there only be a right existence?
…if a right one exists.

Why can no one agree what is better,
or at least agree how to get there?

I Don’t Know What To Call This

What would you do
if a giraffe said, “Moo?”
Would you act as if
you didn’t have a clue
a giraffe could say, “Moo?”

What if a pig
flipped its wig
watching his brother
combing his wig
while dancing a jig?

Would you think so little
of the pig
wearing a wig
or the cow and giraffe
sharing a laugh?

What about the penguins
playing cards
with the neighing bards,
a weekly gathering
in the horses’ yards?

Would you judge them
or let them be,
let them be what you see,
let them make sense
and smile like a tree?

As the tree has a friend,
a friend with no end
to its wisdom and grace
as it hangs on a branch,
enjoying its place.

But would the owl be allowed
to hang upside down?
What if she wasn’t too proud
to hang upside down
if certainly allowed?

Would you judge them
or let them be,
let them be what you see,
all living together,
living in harmony?