time

Old: The New Gold

~*~

Titans rise from mounds of trash.

Soon is seen the survivalist stash.

A garbage economy flush in dirty cash.

The mind’s to waste, throats to slash.

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Industries shuttered and our cities ablaze.

Fields untilled, nil remains to graze.

Warmth reeks, skies awash in the haze.

All’s left to dream of those good old days.

~*~

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Own Up

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Children see a world through eyes that are our own

Blinded to other views until their eyes have grown

Knowledge then divides when education is on loan

Cooperation’s needed to set a civil tone

Problems fester when we all moan and groan

Productive solutions are forever unknown

Fearing that someone will cast the first stone

Waiting for others to throw the first bone

Passing on peace or a big steaming cone

Time’s now for grown-ups to show they’ve grown

Let’s save this place we all see as our own

~*~

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Warz

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Some hearts warm, some cold,

yet all share a bloody thirst.

Circulating both love and hate,

who’s to shout or shoot first?

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This darkness of man held in a hand,

yet the voice has never killed.

Though orders cried for more to die,

by others brave and skilled.

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Organs strewn and heads hewn,

the victors’ lust begins.

Checks cashed then all gets smashed,

the big brass always wins

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Mothers cry and babies die,

someone wins a pin.

The degree to which this hell’s risen,

is all an unforgiveable sin.

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Some hearts warm and some are cold,

why can’t we try to neutralize?

Let’s build on our commonality,

returning joy to our children’s eyes.

~*~

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Trellivision

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Seedlings placed by chance or hand,

burst to thrust from loam and sand.

Their journey skyward a jagged path,

intertwining askew betwixt slatted lath.

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With thorny fingers, not meant to reveal,

oft misread yet intensions are real.

Twisting and weaving through space and time,

trellis clung for their treacherous climb.

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They’ve hands of green to catch the rays,

holding the light for cloudy days.

Or drenches, droughts and starless nights,

all’s risen anew to new morning heights.

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Weathering a diverse world of adversity,

timely teachings taught of tolerance and tenacity.

Evolving resolve for dependence together,

blooms beckon bees and birds of a feather.

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Golden treasure’s deep to entice and please,

fragrant allure’s cast to the breeze.

Sights and scents sensed by all.

Colors await next seasons call.

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Days grow shorter, stems grow long,

primed for pruning though nothing wrong.

Bunched and bundled, arrayed and displayed,

till petals drop there a table laid.

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Brushed in hand returned to land,

budding foundation where others may stand.

Cohesive nature’s expressive of art,

cycles revolve all back to start.

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And this rose but a metaphor for all that’s living,

words remind literally of what life’s giving.

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Twilight Stroll

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At an English peak and the new lost

a short turn’s taken at the gambrels cross.

Trees tall to recall centuries of the past

from carriage path to autos passing fast.

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Reminiscent a lane with styles to fade

hillside perched and often made.

With a gentle rise to never waiver

our walks through time long to savor.

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A Kinder Garden

Babies bounce, wiggle and giggle
They’ll toddle together all day
Until the first steps out the door
They think what their parents say

Off to school for the golden rule
Plus infinite shades of gray
Their grades growing ever higher
Where some will flex others sway

Color’s blind when colors blend
The indelible always stay
Unwanted hues discarded
When tired of their display

Yet a garden need be nourished
For the hope of blooms in May
Or lie and hide from the fall
And awake to face decay

~*~

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Wock the Fock

Clocks no longer tick and tock
Keys unneeded for heads to lock
Brains rattle from what’s now rock
Age divides by the Dr’s Spock

Less is more in a frock
Big pants needed for a glock
Weaklings trampled, the rest to mock
Sheep gather and shepherds flock

Inky portions above the sock
Lightning strikes always shock
Ships of fools sit on a dock
Boats float down the block

Looters lament taking stock
Homeless homes best to knock
Future’s fresh in a fetid crock
Till time no more will tick or tock

~*~

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Error Era

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The end of an era,

the start of something new.

Good or bad is just a guess,

we really have no clue

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We relish in our hindsight,

twenty-twenty it may be.

Yet the future catches up,

too late for you and me.

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Nuclear cars once pondered,

but a bomb blew those away.

Now we arm the masses,

and send them on their way.

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Holes in children’s heads,

breeds forever night.

Darkness will consume,

Till we all see the light.

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Silence bears no witness,

when shooting first to defend.

The truth’s now one-sided.

When will this era end?

~*~

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