Root Evolution

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as far back as they could look
they were tribes living on the land
their story passed down to generation next

tribes quarreled/killed other tribes
some also traded/interrelated

along came America
39 million homeless
39 million living alone

rugged individualism

“pull yourself up by your own bootstraps”
“do what I say not what I do”
“curiosity kills the cat”

yes we remember the chapters between
there and here? Good!

“the times they are a’changing”

in the horizon
here comes peace
the sons and daughters
become mothers and fathers
to their fathers and mothers
who receive parental love
in a new way
some for the very 1st time

their children?
their children’s children?
it is for them to say
when they too
turn old and grey.

p.s. don’t forget to write.

Little Gods Want Fear and Love

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another sting another dawn
another day cometh along
guilt and shame are not the same
guilt wants revenge
shame wants change

we’ve come a long way babe
from titled lord/lady/knight/prior
and men’s inhumanity to women

at the end of every story a new one
dawn into night into day and back again
into the depth of loss the highness of bliss
comes a man on the run, from or to abyss(?)

tangle the web if you can
hopscotch numbers by the name
jackpot when you name the game.

“do we know
where we’re going to?”

¿ the end or the beginning?

you are nobody’s darlin’

.

you who are nobody’s darlin’
why don’t you be mine?
we who are nobodies
in everyone’s dream
here with Emily remembering
our kith and kin
of nobodies…

it was late in September
a few weeks to come
way back we witnessed
eastward rising orange dawns
now witnessing westward dawns
of rose and azul blue

any angel will do
you who with no expectations

shall we dance?

It’s Easier to Zen wen You’re Sixty-Four

(words for a sixty-third birthday)

i picture myself at sixty-three
and you as you are now
walking atop the mountain
looking down at wing’ed lady

and, dear, i now observe
three hours into your
“bullshit” post
current comments: #76

the seventy-sixth
word-smithing, mine
in broken lines (i do
remember your dislike

for poetry
but i write because i can…

“ah, sweet Rose…did you know
we are the only western country
that does not provide free health
care for it’s citizens. Of course it is
paid for by our tax dollars. That is what
civilized countries do best – they take care of their own.”

now is the time to return to mi casa, to sleep
to dream,
to finish the unfinished
perhaps
perhaps to find
find a new horizon
horizon
that goes on and on…