Countless small sparks in a maze of maneuver Like flickering flames buried deep in the dark Shimmering, shifting, and boiling below Less venomous than fire ants I've known; At least from a distance. Much prettier too; From a distance.
We must be warned that coffee's hot, that smoking hurts the lung. Knives are sharp and spoons are not, and sunscreen blocks the sun. We must not eat the non-food pack, that freshens packaged foods. Know calories might make us fat, and sleep might make us drool. Labels warn that water's wet, and bullets might go bang. Signs to warn of dangers met, adorn each mundane thing. We used to use our eyes and think, to see, assess, then act. Replaced with warnings bold in ink, a talisman of words and fact.
A million years of sand and rain made me who I am Built up, compressed, washed clean and worn down. Rusty red, sandy blond, and streaked with black. I defy the elements openly as an acrobat would For Newton pulls heavy on my ancient spine. Yet I arch high overhead triumphant and grand Shade from a withering sun for strangers below.
The super secret squirrels convened Their meeting in the vault Each day at noon they gathered there Discussing who knows what The watchers all looked in from out As blind and dumb and deaf As though they had no mouth or ears To use for baited breath Whispers swirled from left to right Then back around again Tales of conquests in the works Cabals of greed and sin Murmurings of secret tech Sensors, planes, and tools Laser guns and mind control Oh man...… Read the rest
Almost endless years of school Countless hours of study Promotions moving ever up An awful sense of duty To be the expert and make change A constant goal since youth Use of hands and head at once Connecting truth with truth Explore and build to meet demand Reflect on what's been made More to know you've done it right Than strictly to get paid A phantom of some lingering dream Haunting daily chores Wants unmet in truthful life Like salt in open sores No new ideas are his today Great works he builds no more He simply gathers and compiles… Read the rest
I’ve always liked writing, but rarely get a chance to write things not formal, technical, or even worse… bureaucratic. Given my background, you’d think anything artistic would have atrophied years ago, and in truth it probably has. However, though unqualified and not particularly gifted, every once in a while I get an urge to dust off the non-analytical parts of my self and see just how much of it is left.
In a home filled with artistic, musical, and literary talent, I often end up filling the requirement for an audience. It’s unlikely anyone would ask me to perform when … Read the rest