Deep red is scorched of Earth,
I recall the burned glades that once held only
earthly brown. Aftermath a mars-scape of
red and blackened silence.
How I refuse to hope? The politics
leave nothing, yet the fire never raged!
Our landscape marked in blue and red,
it’s not dismay! No, were we ever together,
ever one? The battle merely up and down,
So no, is not despair over gaping gaps,
my formulation runs a deeper shade of
angry grays; no thunder in this distance…
Perhaps. Though mostly now it’s settled,
for a future non-combustible by any means
or any-ONE hell-bent on delivering prophecy
as neatly as they may: Judgment day?
Judge this! I saw a more noble path in
continuance. You want the favor of God?
I suggest an appreciation
within a continuity of extended
What is a test that runs short and sweet?
It is no test at all!
The burn, the land of red and red from horizon
to bloody horizon. Is it time to weep, or
to pray for new beginnings?
I find nothing of myself reflected here;
and that is good.
Oh you worry too much over ghosts and hauntings.
The past is integrated, not shunned and feared.
How else to hope in future redemptive spirit?
When life is bent to comprehension,
the value is based upon complete idiosyncrasy,
not complete collection, or
so I think.
The measure of the waver, distinct.
Me of then believed now would be
a floating leftover in radioactive
Earthly hell. And we achieved that, not!
How great is that and how many
to thank? This is how I see man:
those consumed with ends to define
and those with ends OPEN.
May we be and continue
to be a people with ends-open,
where no smooth ride to settled
options! My wish is that each continuance
determines its path, even that which
leaves a landscape red and scorched.
The earth a bloody mess, yet
how is this challenge weighed?
So tempting for any youth
to lay all at the feet of those before.
NO! I say that wisdom
passed along has greater value
than any debts.
So to these hopes, we shall endure;
I hope so. What I see now
is a chance. Not for politics,
but for money to once again
be under the rule of man:
Not man ruled by Mammon.
It is a hungry God(!) that should
NEVER be worshipped, never granted
leeway to become the star for which
Each person has within them, beauty.
Search for that, and I will take my
findings, deliver justice home to a reach
beyond tired footsteps.
My hope is in the goodness of Man; there it
Prove me wrong? Oh, you have! And yet
the beauty of delusion is the force for change,
the molding of path to the future, not
future to the path.
See, it’s simple. “Make your dreams come true,” oh
that is so worn and trite! “Keep hope alive!” Again,
I fear that repetition has gained only boredom.
And all a programming, this I also know. One must
compute the ideologies planted as an opponent’s next
move (coup). Yet nothing sweeter than using a plant
in more directions for a betterment of betterment’s cause!
To turn its use, and this is where I smile,
oh smile largely on even the red.
The red, red Earth; burned long ago?
Yes, and how many burned with this Earth,
none of time knows.
I sense their love in ghosts and
Regret can touch this clay and know we are better than this.
A sun here, it does not kiss and
tomorrow finds little remarkability in the pain.
Though sums do see aftermath and pride; to be alive
the past is already beaten,
and every thought for multitudes
My sight? I see that I am not needed, now.
Yet that is good, with paths set and games
playing out in the general sense, as they should.
Arrogance? Pish posh! We deal with what we have,
and all these fine lines are taxing to the soul of mind.
It is the crossing, and instruction to note the
This flow to points of no-return…lol ohhhhhh
I had so many finished at the start. Now simply
frozen to a waiting stance,
and feeding hope. For how else is the fevered past
to settle-in? Comparison; contrast and the awakening
of lessor thoughts. Much more is learned by stance.
Red testimony a proof of land used well beyond its own purpose,
man and his silly hopes!
We will burn and let it burn! Oh no, no you won’t.
What brings rejuvenation?
One thing, and one thing only. That is to never,
never fail to see alternate paths; ways; actions; designs; modes;
complexities; contradictions; targets; policies.
I only fear unexpected hate. Expected animosity is nothing more
than self-righteous validations. So enough of that, too. Humility
seems like the white whale. Yet I think she was here
all along; pulling at my hem, dogging the very air, breathed.
Steps? They only count if metered. For now, dust patterns
This! This land is far too red.