And More Words

adding to the conversation

Category: Poetry

For Freedom

they said it was for freedom,1
when they sent us to kill
for imperialism;

they said it was for freedom,
when our families died;

they said it was for freedom,
when the children were shot
in schools, in malls, in their
homes;

they said it was for freedom,
as the drones dropped tonnage
after tonnage on villages;2

they said it was for freedom
to conduct the business
of owning other humans;

they say it is for freedom—
we've always known that word
to mean anything
but

 

we say it is for freedom
and we mean it3

Intro To Thought Itself

There is something to this life!

And I want to be clear:

We are not beholden
To the subjects of a world
Now lost in ash

Numbered lists
1. Lend order to our lives
2. That otherwise spin
3. So wildly
4. Out of our control

Maybe there is something
to be gleaned
from the in-between
of things

The passed is dead
past dying,
already the future
seems burdened
,by it

Honey falls slowly
off my spoon
into ⛾ so
long gone cold

We spend so much time
learning how to un-
learn and redo our undone
selves
(How much misinformation
there is in the absence
of any information!)

G(r)asping for 
answers
A) True...

Spinning Away

It's hard to live in what feels like the linear end-of-things. I have been using social media to get away from worry for so long, but now it is where I must get away from. I'm going to take up reading again, deep long books, in between worrying about my own situation, my family's, the world's. But I need that space to be effective, to be me, to feel human.

There's a lot to worry about. So maybe it's good to remember (to allow) ourselves this: it is okay to live.

It's okay to take a step back; it's okay to block the world out for a bit. It will be there all the same. Read a book, take a walk, ...

///::untitled///::

we always think of
ourselves
as important
the underdog hero
the main man
the victorious heroine

Quipt, Except

sometimes for no reason I feel so lucky to be alive

and I stared at them for maybe a few stops too long I think they think I’m creepy

if i’m falling, did I choose somewhere to jump?

maybe it was never behind you to begin with the sense of febrile completion.

distance and haze, all things fade mirages like those invisible puddles of water above a hot highway

you see one thing then bam! you don’t, nothing left but the cool ache suspicion that maybe it wasn’t better.

Car, truck, truck, bike, truck, car, me. One road, one way to get any number of final spots. That my here and yours...

This American Life (Don't Be Afraid)

In this America, but not my America, life is not a precious resource. In this America, getting sick does not only punish the body with pain, but absorbs and claims your future, subsumed to debt payments. A new lifetime–if you are unlucky–of deductibles, calls from collections, and a deeper and deeper hole. You wonder if you, and the loved ones also stuck with this bill, wouldn’t just be better off dead.

In this America, but not my America, all that matters is money to be made. More than the lives of our fellows. More than the lives of our children. There is paper over ears, hundred-dollar bil...

In That Twenty Percent

 

If we took
for the people
back to the home
to the farm
to the urban center
now stolen (again)
by the white man

if we took,
just from the few
who can amply afford
to lose