Poetry
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They gave out bread and circuses As Rome was burning down. Now Nero’s in the White House Wearing a gilded crown. They gave us tariffs and TikTok Instead of jobs and eggs. Now Nero’s out playing golf And freezing federal aide. They’ll serve us dreams and promises, As they put the country up for sale.
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Saving pennies will add up If given enough time, But hard earned penies don’t bring luck When 2 cents cost a dime. While we’re all pinching pennies In order to survive, Billionaires spend millions To buy and sell our lives.
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I’m me, too much Too tense Too intense. Tightly wound ‘til I snap And wind back up again. I’m me, too much Too high Too low. Falling down until I’m up In an upside down world. I’m me, too much Too insane Too sane. Chasing thoughts ‘til I’m lost Inside my own brain. I’m me,
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I’ve become a political poet. If the last few months have been good for anything, it’s inspiration. I’ve been spitting out poems about current events on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. While most of those rough drafts don’t see the light of day, I deemed several decent enough to share on TikTok and this blog.
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Ignorance is violence Silence is a crime. When there’s injustice in the streets It’s cruel to close your eyes. Ignorance is violence When information’s free. And silence is complicity While we still have free speech. Ignorance is violence And silence is a choice. Speak out against oppression now Before it steals your voice.
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Wake up in the morning, Pour a cup of coffee, Sip it while you calculate The price of your eggs. Return to office mandate, An 8-to-5 in corporate, Got to grin and bear it, You’ve got bills to pay. Work hard, show some muscle. Pick up a side-hustle. No rest for the wicked. No use
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History doesn’t repeat But it does rhyme. What’s happened before Will echo in time. If you don’t study history You may fail to take Important lessons away from the past’s mistakes. But I don’t need to know history To see, the familiar road where this path leads Into another great tragedy.
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No savior No messiah No king of mine. No praising No praying No bowing to thine. I cannot, I should not, I will not resign My humanity for his glory. Your god-king is not my lord.
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The sunrise looked like a landscape. My windowshield, its frame. The white mountains a masterpiece Under the sky’s orange flame. The sunrise looked like a landscape. Each moment a new image unfolds. With fields of frost sparkling silver In the dawn’s sunlight of gold. The sunrise looked like a landscape, Painted by a master’s hand.
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Between midnight and dawn, When the 13th hour strikes, Before the hourglass turns, When the calendar sits empty, Before the old year has gone, Time loses its meaning.
Bringing Mae Flowers 