flags wave in winds, scented with the blood of our naive young
the greedy, the glory seekers, so bravely brazen
watch children march to songs, punctuated by bullets and cannon

the drum beat mirrors their pounding feet, as crimson flows freely
for lebensraum and oil, for greed and pride, god and country
too young to die, too young to be maimed, for scarlet stained stars and stripes

so we mourn, rending our clothes, and vowing promises of never again
until the drum beat and bugle is sounded again, by those safely afar
the calculating sharks, who continue to eat our brave young

You were prouder than peacocks
With magna cum laude blue blood blue chip portfolio gated communities
Saville Row dressed husbands fashionista coifed wives 2.5 children
private jets private schools private lives.
It inured you to suffering
to struggle
to reality;
your merlons and moats
guaranteed limited accessibility
to your inner sanctums;
and you moved the lesser folk
around
on your geopolitical chessboards,
discarded folded up placed aside,
when boredom and monotony set in.
Forgetting
or maybe not caring,
of the impact
when you royally proclaimed
or implied
let them eat cake,
when you decided
healthcare adequate schools violence
hunger shelter crime justice hope peace pollution
were plebeian concerns.
Forgetting what history dictates;
and the masses eventually become enraged,
turning the guns that
you
bought sold placed in their hands,
as they died on your various vain glorious battlefields.
Weapons now aimed right back at you
when then they get fed up frustrated furious
and proclaim -
liberty equality fraternity
and filled with death destruction defiance decide
to let it burn
let it burn…

We are shackled by various chains of our own devising,
chains of love, duty, honor, loyalty and obligation
blinded and divided
by stereotypes and myths,
compelled and attracted to rhetoric and dogma.

We choose our poisons,
rushing headlong,
to a prison,
accepting without questioning
philosophies that drive our lives.

Somewhere,
in between,
there beats a commonality
that binds us all.

I wanna dream, I wanna fly,
jumping up and leaping into today.
Face to the sun, moon and stars,
arms spread wide
and full of wonder and delight,
bolting from mundaners,
stick in the mudders,
walk a straight liners.
I wanna amaze and astound
the straight laced
and the two-faced,
all the corporate type, tight asses.
I wanna shine a light into the minders,
condemners and cripplers of seekers,
binders and hobblers of dreamers.
I wanna see behind closed doors,
fling them wide open,
ripping down shades of traditions
and sly perditions.
I wanna huff and puff until
all the stale air is released,
inhaling deeply a bracing breeze of change,
exposed once again to the impossible,
the improbable.
I wanna look at the world with a child's eye,
instead of giving way to the arbitrators,
the oh so righteous and sanctimoneus.
Just for once
I wanna dream, I wanna fly.

Never again we all say,
as a child cradles his mother's rotting body
in the killing fields of Cambodia
never again, we all say
while a family flees, down a street
chased by a marauding crowd
and is machettied, blood spraying
into the streets of Kilgali
never again, we all say
while tanks roll in
over youthful bodies
thier voices screaming in agony
in Tiananmen Square
never again, we all say
as men, women and children
are bought and sold
slave and toil, in the Rift Valley
never again we say
yet we gaped in astonishment
shocked and awed, images broadcasted
Iraqi skies ablaze with death's fireworks
we say never again
repeating the same bloody mistakes
the same old vicious mantras
over and over
and we cry, full of rage
and righteous indignation
through-out the ages
in every tongue
every faith
proclaiming NEVER AGAIN
but continue
to murder, to hate, to blaspheme
refusing, unable to love
in the name of our common humanity
never again

It is a sweet lie, a politically correct reaction
while we mumble to ourselves
because inside
we know
that these unfortunates
are other people's children
not ours.

Never again we all say,
as a child cradles his mother's rotting body
in the killing fields of Cambodia
never again, we all say
while a family flees, down a street
chased by a marauding crowd
and is machettied, blood spraying
into the streets of Kilgali
never again, we all say
while tanks roll in
over youthful bodies
thier voices screaming in agony
in Tiananmen Square
never again, we all say
as men, women and children
are bought and sold
slave and toil, in the Rift Valley
never again we say
yet we gaped in astonishment
shocked and awed, images broadcasted
Iraqi skies ablaze with death's fireworks
we say never again
repeating the same bloody mistakes
the same old vicious mantras
over and over
and we cry, full of rage
and righteous indignation
through-out the ages
in every tongue
every faith
proclaiming NEVER AGAIN
but continue
to murder, to hate, to blaspheme
refusing, unable to love
in the name of our common humanity
never again

It is a sweet lie, a politically correct reaction
while we mumble to ourselves
because inside
we know
that these unfortunates
are other people's children
not ours.

 

holding onto patience
I mutter, grace under pressure
it is my prayer, my mantra
recalling memories of just a woman
who will be continued to be judged for looks
shape and ability to stroke an ego
repressed, undressed (mentally)
patronized, marginalized, under utilized
until death
a starter wife
replaced when hair grayed
shape shifted
breasts unperked
and the children left home
a grandmother who's greatest attraction
is
holiday gifts, cookies, cakes
and when the body finally follows my spirit death?
money or lack of
will be my greatest contribution to mankind

where did the banners of feminine revolution go
when did Gloria leave me behind?

feeling a little stressed today...

 

 

in my youth I agitated for change
demagogues inflamed me
I wanted to see the establishment
burn baby burn
convinced
the tried and true
was really the staid and stale

today
before the mirror
I peer at the white hairs
my hips ache, moving slower each year
and the sneer on my face replace by
hard earned knowledge
the firebrand is a stout abuelita
instead of excitement
I crave a comfortable couch
instead of passion
warmth and tenderness

some things remain the same
injustice still pisses me off
unkindness and cruelty
have the power to make me tear
old men still send the young off
to die for their antiquated dreams
and yes
the fire inside burns steadily
i am still hardwired for love