In the Summer Sun

The anger has subsided, at last,
think nothing of horrendous past,
betrayals and laughing lies
festering in the summer sun.

the brightness is a blindness, too,
retracting everything we knew,
facts flying forth and bias blooms,
unfolding in the summer sun.

A balance is struck within the fight
and everyone decides to their own right
and holds their own, for if they don't,
they will fade into the summer sun.

There is no right,
there is no wrong,
no difference between
the screams and songs,
as I sit here, in the summer sun,
waiting for a sign, unhung,
that everything,
the way it is,
is how it is supposed to be.

The premise for the poem "Mankind's creation"

I'm condemning everybody, by the way.

Reading the poem before reading the explanation is encouraged, but not mandatory.

Yes; the poem "Mankind's Creation" is a social commentary.

It references the shooting at the Holocaust Memorial Museum, the giant statues of Buddha's in Afghanistan, suicide bombers, rocket launchers, grenade lob-ers, throwers of rocks, the Middle East, South East Asia, and so many other places. People who abandon their responsibilities, rapists, liars, confidence artists, the people who stand by the sidelines and witness all of this, sadists and masochists, users, addicts, self defacers, those who corrupt innocence and plant seeds of violence and hatred.

It has taken me seventeen years to realize that I have been a witness to a war zone my entire life. I was a less than a decade old when the Towers were felled, the first time in my life that I could feel the fear, so palatable. I don't remember the years much, anymore. The bus and subway bombings in London, shootings at Community Centers and schools (colleges, primary, secondary,) gang symbols, drug trafficking, human trafficking, abuse- emotional, verbal, physical, sexual. Hate, in so many different forms, insidious, sneaking into our minds, poisoning our thoughts. Darfur, where genocide rears its nasty head, countries that rule by god, others whose rules deny god and forbid god. Ideas, ideals, conflicting wants and desires, the need to be right, to have status- This is what drives the human race. This is what destroys us. I hope it is not to late.

Mankind's creation

My god,
How beautiful.
To think that everything
may once have had
a fighting chance.

How terribly devastating-
that someone will come to a memorial
to kill, to kill and be killed.
That history is blown to shards,
and people of one earth bomb each other-
at weddings,
at funerals,
at school,
in the night.
Parents who leave children,
without rhyme, reason, or a word.
They who take the body of another
for their own selfish means,
those who smile as someone else is torn apart,
those who stand by,
in the blood of their nation,
in the blood of their friend.
The ones who do nothing,
the ones who lie,
the ones who introduce strange chemicals to their flesh,
to escape reality,
while their fantasy destroys them.
The ones who burn their own bodies,
draw their own blood,
take their own lives.
Who teach their children,
their progeny,
to hate others:
for god,
for land,
for race,
for color-
and give rise to the saying:
"There will be peace here,-
when they love their children
more than they hate us."

God damn those who glorify in death;
destruction.
There is nothing beautiful there,
a desolate wasteland
of mankind's creation,
a vacuum,
like a hole in the heart,
without a second chance.

Wish

All I wish
is that I shall be
forever able
to recognize
each and every one
of you from afar
and that the beauty
and elegance of
your movements
will not be marred by age.

This is not a desire
for the stagnation of time
nor is it a refusal to change.

As I sit outside,
within a sky-ceilinged box,
I stare out
to the inside
and watch all of your beautiful faces,
and animated selves
and this makes me tremble,
engulfed by thoughts of
what may come.

Intuition is not really reliable
and a hunch is only,
only a hunch.
But there are somethings
that I may wish for
and only sometimes,
very rarely,
very, very rarely
do these wishes
even come close
to coming true.

the recurrence of forever

I watched the sun set its self down,
far beyond the trees-
Who knows what the future will bring?

Everything is coming down,
everyone is fading out.
What will remain after all of this?

After the journeys' course is run,
and we are laid to rest,
who is it that we remember
and who is it we dare forget?

The sights, unseen,
the sleepless nights,
waiting for a helping hand,
waiting for the light.

With acknowledgement
comes strength of spirit.
With reconciliation,
a sense of worth is found.

When the future shows its face
I would like to face it with you

A remainder, a remnant of love and faith

a remembrance of times past

and the recurrence of forever

Pisces

I'm just a sitting duck
out in the open
waiting
ready
for you to take your shot
and knowing
that you
with your perfect
(precise aim)
leaden bullet
drawing blood from above my heart
will take me down
yes, there is no more resistance
crumpled
and ragged
and bound
like a buoy
or a boat
or a fish, its tail to an other's
inevitable
like the end of the world
or you and I
my acquiescence
is like water rejoining itself
and I sink
like a stone
with the bubbles rising
in ribbons
to the light
until I reach the bottom
and settle in to this fate
tied to you
by strings I cannot see
but know are there

green and silver

painting the world outside silver and green,
as I sit, watching the rain stream down
and the streets flood
like my heart
or my smile floods my face.
This silver beaten lullaby begs me to rest,
just one moment longer,
a solitary second of stolen relaxation,
swept away like the debris in the gutter,
as I hit replay for other people's dreams.
silver beads slide down, slowly, on telephone wires
and these things I am afraid of-
I will not admit or deny them,
but I will know what is there for me to remember.
It is only a thought that has been suppressed one million times prior
to the actual event of our invention,
but there is a hope for this love,
renewed by the thought of your eyes and attention.
I do not expect blue skies for a while now,
I dread that, secretly, deep in my heart,
that when the sun shines again,
I will still be sitting here,
waiting.