Tens of thousands of insects performed a symphony, an elaborate musical composition passionately orchestrated, resonating, familiar and strange, persisting, unwavering notes upon notes – the last hurrah – as I strolled along the cooly illuminated cement walk, to view, in an early evening wan indigo sky, the golden orb of a Harvest Moon. Pale purply hued shadows decorated the reflecting surface of the blonde satellite presenting the appearance of a face: still, mute, suspended, shedding an ochre glow, casting mine moon shadow: casting a shadow for all, for all mindful of the rare reverie.
She tripped over the light
Her ego swelled
Took another bite
With desire to lead
Her narrow view
An insatiable need
Followed the few
Holding the gold
Reserving the meat
Surviving to cheat
Spewing the lies
Condemning the flocks
On less fortunate spies
Other’s opinions she mocks
Do as you’re told
Darkness is blind
Having her way
Everyday and today
Could there be light?
Would there be sight?
NOT AFRAID OF THE DARK
From the darkness came the light
Big and bright to make the day
Small and slight to pierce the night
From the darkness came a way
To see the light, one’s own right
Without the darkness who would know
The difference light intends to show
Without the light who would see
That darkness might need to be
Here are the persecutors of the righteous, haters of truth, lovers of falsehood, who do not acknowledge the reward for righteousness nor cleave to what is good or righteous judgments, who are vigilant for not what is good but what is evil, from whom meekness and patience are far removed. Her are those that love vanity, who follow after rewards, who have no pity on their neighbors and do not labor for the oppressed or know their creator. Here are the murderers of children, destroyers of God’s image, who turn away from the needy. Here are the oppressors of the oppressed, defenders of the rich, unjust judges of the poor, sinners in all things. Beware, children, of all these!
– The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles – The Didache
Anger, confusion, loneliness and fear drive humans to commit inhumane acts. A congressional representative with well over three million taxpayers dollars in farm subsidies proclaims, “The one who is not willing to work shall not eat.”, a famous princess offhandedly remarks, “Let them eat cake.” The wealthy and the self-righteous tend to forget that all are created equal. There are millions of working men and women that do not receive a living wage and are subsidized through SNAP: not one of them receives the largess of farm or corporate subsidies that goes to already wealthy individuals.
Sodomites presented golden ingots with their images stamped onto them to the peasants and then refused to sell them food. Upon the serfs deaths the Sodomites would reclaim the coins.
Those that do not get paid will not eat. Those that cannot work will not eat.
Cutting funding to food stamps is not about saving government money it is about redirecting funds to those that already have.
There will always be those who mean to do us harm. To stop them we risk awakening the same evil within us.
– James Tiberius Kirk
ONCE UPON A LIFE
The palms began to sway, below the turret of the castle of my mind, to the beat of my internal iPod. Downstairs sailors drank until they had drunk the entire wine cellar. Across the vast waters the smiling face of an insincere queen radiated on an unsophisticated community. Two worlds were colliding but not tearing apart, though wells were running dry. Creeping stealthily the oligarch continues to hoard resources that could encourage the growth and development of the undernourished, an entire village. Cajoling and charming the benighted, the elevated one fastened onto all that could be had through erroneous lawmakers making and a darkness began to pall over those that have not as well as the self proclaimed monarch.
To be continued – because there is no end…
The fog creeps through the wood
As a violet dusk envelopes the day.
Graceful and unearthly, felicitous.
The trees turn bleak then black,
With a subtle swaggering posture.
As the sky becomes smoky
Twigs, then branches disappear;
Gone missing, in the night’s darkness.