Poetry-Thing Thursday: Made “For You”

You play a good game.
Most would surely miss it.
But there’s no denying,
the heat on the air,
or slight stutter of breath;
that quiet calling,
the closer we get.

You can try to deny it,
fool even yourself,
but I know the truth.
Know it as you do too;
that heat and that lust,
that animal want,
that searching for pleasure,
that you and I share.

It is passion confined,
compressed to singularity,
and no matter our senses,
it will always endure.

We can fight it forever,
die with it alight.
Stay separate to douse it,
but it’s stronger than might.

Last of all,
we could feed it.
Unleash its full force,
on one another,
hope to survive–
to hell with our senses
and the consequences.

No matter our choice,
little may change,
whether we like it or not,
our “I,”
is made,
“for you.”

Poetry-Thing Thursday: One’s Breath

In the rise and fall of nations,
is a birth of flames and destruction;
the downplay of human character,
by greed-fueled plague-rats,
toward any dissent.
“Shout them down!”
And so back to bed they’re sent.

Meanwhile enthusiasm finds no love nor purchase,
in the minds of those most deserving,
for it is difficult to see or find happiness,
when one’s eyes are afflicted, infected, blended,
by the debilitating disease of poverty.

But it is not natural.
Nor has it come from nature.
It is, and was, spread by man,
the aforementioned wealthy ones.
And all in hopes,
of claiming the world,
for they and themselves alone.

Without the poor to trod upon,
nor to terrify and keep in line–
and the ever-shrinking middle-class ilk,
those wealthy rats will be forced to walk,
through their own layered filth.
We can only hope,
that very act,
will mutate them into better Beings.

But I would not advise holding one’s breath.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Plastic Mandibles

In the ocean,
swirls a mile of garbage,
blown there by man’s ignorance
and the ever-tidal currents.

Think on that for a moment.

Good, now listen:
The Earth,
is our home,
not our prison.

One day that may change,
as we soar to the stars,
colonize Mars,
but for now they’re out of range.

So remember the poison,
the trash and chemicals,
and the plastic mandibles,
you dump in the ocean.

They will one day come ’round,
perhaps not then, perhaps not now,
but remember too this creed;
in mindfulness is wisdom found.

Stop hurting the Earth,
for hers is as much your worth.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Rise!

I look out,
only to see,
so many people,
fighting to be free.

Whether of chains,
or labels,
the shackles are real,
invisible.

I look up,
only to find,
all the unfortunate,
are all the same kind.

Suppressed and oppressed,
by wealthy elite,
those of power,
whether you believe it or not,
accept it.

Only then,
may it change.
Only then,
may we stop the rain.
Then,
and only then,
may we bring an end
to the pain.

For all those who’ve come,
and those yet to still–
The ones this world,
truly belongs to.

So if you do nothing else,
do at least this:
Rise!