It’s not a choice Between good and evil The deep divide is On what is good And what is evil These are debated Unendingly, not finding A common ground A sense of truth A path to follow Belief is not knowledge True faith is not fact In history, religion has Traded evil for good And good for evil Endless debates continue Church and State Black and White Right and Left Good and Evil We’ve become bipolar No middle ground Against each other Hate your neighbor And your enemy The red we see On the street In the station At the battlefield It’s the same shade Not good nor evil It flows in us all And the fact is We all share DNA 99.9% the same The world is small As are many minds Growing smaller With dog whistles In our ears Sounding the call To ruin us all Not just here But everywhere Our beliefs touch The good The evil Also Share DNA
Category: Religion
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the choice
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country
I grew up country We lived out on a dirt road Where I road my bike every day Where I drove my first car into a ditch But being country wasn’t about where you lived It was about who you were Being country meant you learned to look a person in the eye when you shook their hand Being country meant your word was worth more than all your cash in the bank and being called a liar brought on a fight Being country meant you didn’t have to agree, but you did have to respect people no matter their station in life, where they worshipped or how they voted Being country meant you worked hard and loved deeply; your God, your family, and your Country I grew up country I still identify as country I live 20 miles from where I was raised I married the sweetest country girl that lived a mile from me and it’s been 42 years and counting I can still bust out a Willie Nelson song on my guitar Though I drive a Tesla, I’ll take a back road any day over a freeway Being country still means you look people in the eye, but now you bump elbows Being country still means your word is worth more than your stock portfolio and being called a liar will bring on an angry reply on facebook Being country still means you don’t have to agree, but you do need to respect, no matter your race, who you love or how you vote Being country still means you work smart and love deeply; whether you believe in God or not, whether you have a family or not, and whether you’re red, blue or no color at all I grew up country My road is paved now I ride an electric bike I try to keep my car between the ditches But being country isn’t where I’m from It’s who I am
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break the pendulum
seek to understand, then be understood how long will that take? how patient can we be? how do you understand racism? who can understand ignorance? it’s a prayer of the ideals of St. Francis it’s a maxim from the mind of Covey a good thing under normal circumstances but change doesn’t happen with understanding real change only happens with revolution systemic racism is an evil virus infecting weak minds and family values passed on by weakened immune systems carried by political rhetoric 400 years old that melanin creates value, less is more 4 years of stupidity has lit a 400 year old fuse that needs to finally set off a political bomb to direct the right and the left to True North snapping the pendulum, changing the course and ridding the nation of anything but truth in the aftermath of chaos, change is the only option not a swing of the pendulum from right to left we need a compass, 360 degrees of choice choose a better path, not binary, but polynary whether race, politics or gender, we will choose to love, choose to accept, choose to lead lead the revolution by changing the status quo your status quo, what you know, what you believe this is not a zero sum game where equilibrium reigns the balance of power needs a fulcrum adjustment it’s time to push out the supremacists in power let the compass needle spin like a top breaking the pillars that hold the blue/red line open the nation and eventually the world to a new day where the sun shines equally on us all
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planting the three sisters
In my barren garden Hands in the dirt I plant the Three Sisters With hope as a gentle guide The corn sister stands tall Reaching the sky Ready to be a support She is a beacon of peace The bean sister comes next Climbing the stalks Giving back to the soil Living out her compassion The squash sister is last Covering the ground Relieving summer heat With her broad leaves of love The three sisters grow Rising in peace Giving through compassion Covering everything with love A bounty in my garden Three Sisters bring Peace, Compassion, Love May it be so in my life
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echo
It’s an echo in the dark that no one started. That panic that wakes you in the middle of the night, Sitting upright, heart racing, listening for any sound, Then realizing, it’s the damn middle of the night, There’s nothing wrong, right now, right here. But, so much is falling apart that we’re currently holding Together with bailing wire and duct tape. Sheer will Keeps the wall up that is crumbling and cracking, I know that sounds weak and quite psychotic. That’s me at 1:05 in the morning, as I get up to pee And check the locks and the deserted driveway Hoping against hope that everyone is safe in bed, Climbing back into bed, I’m also hoping to sleep. “Hope is not a strategy,” some guy said once. But to hell with that guy, when simple hope is all You have to keep you going after strategies fail, Trying to clear my mind, I read another chapter, Then count sheep, or down from 100 by threes. I watch the hours pass on the clock and the moon Passes by the window as morning light subtly comes, I join the masses these days, anxiously robbed of sleep. Day comes, ready or not, and tags me to be next In line at the stop light and at the conference table. I’m trying hard to stay awake. Really? Now sleep comes?
