Let It Fall Where It May
For: Trump (the traitor)

No matter the cost
whatever the price,
we keep on falling
like the tumbling dice.

To reorganize
Democrats failing
get it together
without the squalling

The journey is long
as roads unfold.
Life is not fair,
unlike you've been told.

Chaos reigns straightaway
there's no pattern or plan,
no rhyme or reason
to the stupidity of that man.

The Conscientious Objector
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

He was willing to follow
His rage to war
While I bring mine
To march with signs in the streets.

He mistook bearing arms
For strength,
But the conscientious objector
Keeps their humanity.

For him, the hell will never end.
He can’t escape his own fortress
Like I did.

Therein lies the difference,
And draws a line between
My side and his,
Doesn’t it?

He saw me as something
That he had any right to wound.

exuding suave debonair air
plus head and shoulders taller
(than the empire state building -
hey what's a little hyperbole, eh?)
since September eleventh
two thousand and twenty four,
which date marked a major change
(yes folks - more important
than getting married)

The waftures tempt my heart, I think of thee.
Your murmurs lure to meet my comely one.
Redolent air, it calls the love in me
I stroll to bathe beneath the summer sun.

The sea, the shores, and every little shell,
the prayer calls evoke an endless love.
The thyme, the lime and grains of sand shall tell
how much I miss the petrichor thereof.

I saw my dead brother yesterday

Ghostly pale like he was on display

I saw him, but he did not see me

He looked as peaceful as he could be

I asked him what it was like to be dead

These are the words that he said,

"My mind is calm; my heart is still

No more pain do I ever have to feel

No more tears will ever come to my eyes

All my suffering with me has died

Brother, I have comfort that I never felt alive

That is how I have been since I died."

I saw my dead brother yesterday

Were her thoughts like fairy tale books….
With truths naked and flowing

In pretty bubbling brooks,
Her secrets, all but showing

In this precious book of stories.
All of her there like ink between the pages.

Might I then, peruse the chapters of her mind.
Suffer a thousand paper cuts from her pages

And bleed, with a treasure or a curse to find.
Look under every dragon infested mountain,

Swim her white lie filled fountain
Drink deep her truth and know my own.

There's a time to go back to live life again,
Let the boy who was fearless be reborn just the same;
Command the old man who grumbles and moans
Of the aches and the pains that torment his old bones.

Ride his bike one more time, no brakes, hands free,
Skate winter's froze pond where he knows not to be,
Go down to the river for frogs, newts, dragonfly,
Climb gnarled oaks so tall they caress azure sky.

Her salted bludgeoning maw
swallowed vessels and galleys
with its green saline gullet of
ulcers
barnacles, and a throat full of oily
spots of acne sticky limpets

Treasures guarded by a circle
of sharks in an ocean restaurant
pinching crabs,
and swaying seaweed keeping naval
secrets.

A wave of wrathfulness, tossing
clubbing, floating ships, drowning
them into the abyss.
stripping seamen Into
skeletons with silent screams.

Driven from their ancestral homes,
the gestapo, with guns enforced,
they ruled over, into the night,
in their bodies, vitriol coursed.

Stripped of dignity and clothing,
their belongings sorted in piles.
Last, their ignorant claims of lies
and the most vehement denials.

Jewish population on the streets,
banished to death camps without hope.
shaven heads were mandatory;
disinfectant served as soap!

Bon Fire
Flames ignited
Burns with love from within
Sealing the bonds of my marriage
Firestorm