as i sit in the
imprints of my ignorance
the divots and dips created at a time
when nobody was seeing
i have to wonder
if right now,
here today this moment
will be the same
if i’ll have nostalgia
for the time i had nostalgia
considering it again
hard reset leave it off for 10
years decades centuries who knows
restart it at will
lots created to appease themselves
told themselves the connections and
impulses have a deeper meaning
like all connections and impulses we
living decomposition until we finally
crumble and return to the earth
finite beings shouldn’t blind themselves
i love my country
because i love its beauty
i love the warmth of the sun
and the chill of the breeze
and the bees buzzing
and junebugs whirring
and the trees rustling
and the ground crunching.
i love the woman who has harsh eyes
and the man who is soft and jubilant
i love the child playing in their backyard
and the mother closing her eyes as she
tilts her head ever-so-slightly back, reveling in
her last sip of wine for the night.
i love the lights of the city
and the glimmer of the town
and the stillness of the wilderness.
the hum of the modern world
and the hum of the natural world.
this is just a selection of land
in which we were born and lived our lives
and those who we came from did, too.
i love my country because it is beautiful
i hate my country
i hate the politics and the games
and the economic turmoil that
causes poverty and hatred
i hate the weapons and the violence
and the cutting jabs and the contorted faces
and the noise and the venom.
it’s not a hum but a shriek.
i hate the strife and the ignorance
and the pain and the indignance
and the social hierarchy
and the corruption.
i hate that there are people so closed
that they will put their insignificant
fleeting existance over the eternity of the land.
humans have created marvelous things
language and cameras and cheesecake and showers
telescopes and rockets and airplanes and lamps.
the human experience should be about creation,
the power we hold is only great because of our numbers
our existence on this planet is only because of our numbers
you are so small
you are nothing to the world
you are a grain of salt that has been
soaked and grinded and burned and blown away
and the single particle that landed on that pebble over there?
you ignorant pathetic worm of a man
do not for one second believe you are anything but nothing.
i love too much to like black coffee
softness and richness are not mutually exclusive
though at this moment
if i had to choose
the gentle and warm and loving and comforting
far outweighs the intriguing and deep
sunlit gardens coax my soul more than moonlit alleys
the dark is when i live
the light is when i love
i love roses too much to revel in their death
and soft kisses more than rough grabs
passion and peace work in cohesion
to create a relational atmosphere
so soothing you could sleep
but so light there is nothing to weigh your eyelids down
rather than staccato
and cutting and jarring and hitting
gutwrenching is easy
we all have the same basic emotional triggers
stabbing is pain and laughing is joy
but to write for beauty
to create a godliness, a heaven in each line
an eden of words
there is so much strife and change and hurt and shock in life
the human experience has no definite reason