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The Cedar Is Me

I look upon the four hundred year old Cedar tree
That has survived such chaos, death,  decimation
Of great forests of pine trees by invaders who ‘free’
It of its natural resources, life, and vegetation.
Encased in the trunk of the ancient tree, the world
Is small, burning hot under the summer sun, flashing
Its heat and brilliance to help everything grow into a postcard
That’s photoshopped into being breathtaking
In its organized life, only disturbed by humans barking
Out order for dissolving the inner and outer beauty of its solitude.

Slipping out of the of the cedar tree, I take my human form
And gaze astounded on my reflection: wrinkled skin,
Darkened splotches, and great disillusionment
Darkens the depth of my eyes as I lay bare upon the bank.
The scenes of war and decimation I witnessed
Have been imprinted on my soul, waiting for any deed
That will alleviate my despair that humanity is a dying breed
That needs new blood, ingenuity,  and values
To help it defeat famine, war, racism, and religious discriminations.

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Premonition of Doom

A premonition of doom hovers,
The sky turns Grey and everything stutters,
Vision is obstructed as pellets flutters
And hit the window panes like bullets.

The hits keep coming for minutes
On end, while those inside hides,
And others scramble for their lives.

A premonition of doom descends
As bullet spray holes in cements,
As explosions scatter shrapnel shards,
As wounds bleed and blood vessels explodes.

Run, run, as the premonition plays hide and seek,
As you are uncertain a boom and scream are bleak
Sounds that drown out everything that’s not a freak.

A premonition of doom slithers
Down your spine and hinders
Any action as you’re paralyzed by feelings
Of someone walking over your grave and steals …

Takes away your premonition of good
Leaving only the pessimist whose sole food
Is your terror that feeds his vanity that won’t brood.

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Ode to Indigenous Victims

Couldn’t type! Besides with writing it out, I can edit when it’s complete! All those victims of abuse of Indigenous genres: raise your voices together! Only then will they make any change happen!

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Trapped Humanity

Exert from my poetry book, Perfectly Flawed.

Outside,  the sun is shining brightly, but within
The window, where the air is stale from fear of pain
Everyone seems to be hiding behind squares of glass
Letting life pass them by as their isolation presses
Down on their sanity, and cabin fever rises.

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Reflection

Chaos is all around us. We woke up on a winter morn last February to the knowledge the the virus has spread. Today, almost a year later, we are under yet another lockdown that has even harsher penalties.

What’s the world coming to? A vitus, I can understand, a volcano, flood, earthquake, fire even, all can be analyzed and man’s ingenuity comes into play, and saves the day.

However, when a political figure insites violence, and approves of bigotry/ racism, in this day and age is unacceptable. Why do we, as people, feel the need to follow where we lead? Shouldn’t we have achieved enough awareness of the world around us to notice that races exist, but they have a common denominator: humanity, red blood, and emotions.

Don’t let yourself be swept away by what the speeches that demean anyone, and promote violence against them. Rather highlight the importance of inclusion, acceptance, and friendship. In so doing, you are providing others with a role model that is human, perhaps fallible, but at least, a person you can speak to, listen to, argue with …. in a civilized manner.