if things got better could they stand it?

< ..>

they do so lust for
everything get worse
whose grabbed in the beginning
are grasping in the end
today’s tiny upswing
before a balance settles in
any mathematician coulda/woulda known
it takes 2%
were they going for 99.9% pure?
it is not soap!
it is people
gonna wash that greed
right outta their hands
who who knows?
(Mother Jones knows a lot)

ah yes,
greed grows in many pocket books
big and small
not to fear dear munchkin
your roof is not falling
but sadly i hear a new report
the Monster Greed has a new plan
second chapter, worse than first,
been used before, but listen
IT has already started…

i remember when, in the ’40’s
and early ’50’s when
the middle class had an unspoken fear
of falling into lower class
remember all the classes back then?
upper upper
upper middle
middle upper
lower middle
lowest living on the street

and, oh the woes in the middle
personal ones all true
and once again
the Monster plan:
Turn the Middle against the Lower

it all depends:
how many Christians have learned Jesus-compassion?
who many Jews remember why they joined the Civil Rights Movement?
how many will remember why they came to the US of A?
and how many Americans will remember their ancestral roots?

in the hollows and the hills
we are singing out,
“we ain’t gonna take it anymore,
we have united our selves.”

Shame Be Upon Thee

< ..>

“What love looks like coming out the back side of despair.”*

and the never ending

push the people off their land
in the beginning it was for survival
in the middle it was immigration
seeking freedom
in the end it was riches and power
pushing the people off their land

and the never ending

rhetorical spitting lies
how much fear does it take
for a power monger to make
his own crowned head
stay crowned?

and the never ending

creation of peoples in despair
lead to desperate acts
how many acts does it take
for a self-made-almighty
to know his bridge
is falling down.

* from Uncle River’s novel “Camp Desolation”

o didn’t it burn, babe


a whole generation
nearly frenzied
knowing gigantic
task at hand
the streets & public places people
strolling nonchalant
hiding bored

to wake the refusers
while Humbles
sweat to crack a laugh
sing to sigh a heart
et al et al et al

we survived it all
well, some did…
holy golden cow!
how we suffered the insanity
in our blurtings
someone got stabbed with words
someone stabbed back
neither one quite remembering
what it’s all about Alphie
hit the road Jack
that’s one way to travel
to next
slow down we go to fast
many generations,
for eons…
vurk is everlasting

it takes a lot of snoodling
a lot of forgetting
to cross the bridge
in tact.

“Don’t Mess With My Atonement”

“Don’t Mess With My Atonement”

she was downsizing via guilt
he was upsizing via his vork
no blame or same
their communication barrier
non comprendo
when the soul needs a lesson give it up
to seeing both sides
of their disagreement
in planning to share a space
his goal disrupted hers
her goal disrupted his
no blame

“and so, the two, have parted
gonna have another walk downtown”

what if
she could learn
physical manifestations not of her making.
was not part of her atonement completion
not enough to live an example
of conscious human to decide on
and what if
he could learn
when mind/body/spirit set a direction
honor this

i honor my keyboard
turn it upside and gently pat
lots of unwanted-s fall out
openly i spread my hands over the keyboard
and honour all creators that brought us
from stone writing to keyboard
and beyond yes, i, stop here
where i am
to breathe in, breathe out

take it home girl
while still wide awake
tobacco tomorrow
which will be today
yes i do owe more to taxpayers
ergo i support tobacco tax

back home again
in Clark’s Marysville
laughing all the way
of what fun it is to ride
any open road…

crazy ol’ lady


memory slips
fast and growing faster
making life easier
when he/she doesn’t
want to hear what is said
she reminds them
she’s only just
a crazy ol’ lady
they heard it
she does not have to debate it
golden are the years
when she can say
“if you say so”
to pomposity

her 81 year old sister calls
they commensurate on death
she asks, “are you ready to die?”
crazy lady replies,
“what’s the alternative?”

Candy Memorial


dedicated to My Fisherman

of course you had to die
my Candy, dear Candy
you were not satisfied
rotting our teeth
you had to push
for diabetes…
till Snarkel
your bling-bling mind
then shortening
all that might add health
and delight
to even the considered
they still chew it
it gits their teeth
but not their body/

may you rest forever

Raven’s List


it’s so cold here among the living
gee mom i wanna go home
no, not suicidal
just tired
of seein’ all the peacocks
in front of all
the starving suffering children

no one envies peacocks
some think they’ll be ’em
all disdain ’em
do they strut to hide the knowing
they are no where
in evolving humankind?

hush little children don’t you cry
daddy’s gonna come home by and by
momma got ya cradled in her heart
a new day’s a’comin’

jump to start

91 years after Prohibition – can it happen again?


wedge that issue tween us they did
it won the political power back then

the secret of their success?

split the divided country
we had become
grow the wedge 10% strong
and they will have their sway
drug war
world war
wars of prevention
et al personal values

what do “they” want 2012?
%10 per cent tea baggers
one in every town
we got ours, you got yours?

“They would imprison Jesus
if He helped someone
have an abortion.”

William Jennings Bryan
the war between the Wets and Drys
“It will be the end of poverty!”

they keep trying…
we keep suffering…
between 2012 and then…
Roar, Twenties, Roar!

people gonna do what they gonna do
the trouble will always be
enforcing the law
when too many people just wanna be free

the rose is the same
and fair
“Drinking while driving kills.”

“Now, what ya gonna do when they come for you?”

“join us on the rails?”
poet Michael pens

on Wall Street?
or ya gonna stay in the halls of Montezuma?

“learn to ask better questions”
another poet pens”

Dear Daddy Short Legs,


i can say that, i grew taller than you
not that short or tall is more desirable
anyone besides you who hap to read this
might recall Daddy Long Legs
of which once i addressed a letter
of whom might be one of the mights
who responded with a Rumi poem
that warms me still
after all these forty something years

now that i’m closer to your home
i wish to share a spot
of my golden years

a’bed with my head towards the wall
i was watching shadows playing there
of slender trees…
a gentle breeze would have them dancing
a gush of wind –
were they at war
or was it a rock and roll frenzy?
i laughed out loud
followed by a feeling
of just plain good!
but most of all dear daddy
i’m not feeling alone when i am

your middle daughter,
Summer Breeze