So shoot us or feed us, Big Man. We are very tired. Feed us or kill us quickly–or else what good are you?
The Crying For A Vision
A man muddied, clothes torn
sits alone in a dark alley with shards
of glass around and stomach denied wine
drifting from an open dumpster. The man
rises to his feet, then empties onto
the sidewalk. He slowly drags one leg
after the other, passing buildings, each with
boards in place where windows used
to stand. He stops and passes through
the space between two factories. He enters
the first from the back exit. The man
reaches the foot of some steps, he grabs
the hand rail and pulls himself up a floor.
He stares at the rotted door with a tag
that reflects his name. –Five years earlier,
the man types, fingers rapidly pushing
buttons, at a computer in his office. He sends
an E-mail to the president of the company,
outlining, point for point, faults created
by a slight downfall in the stock market.
The man, hoping the leaders, like FDR,
can prepare them to prevent a major loss
of jobs. The president reads the message
like a tip from his business manager,
and spreads the word to other top stock
holders.– The man pulls a soiled newspaper
out from under his shirt and focuses
on a picture of the company’s former leaders
sitting around a table, drinking warm
coffee with the president of the U.S.
I wrote this for a class in 2004 and is a part of bigger poem titled democracy.
Posted in Academic, Arts and Sciences, Creative, General, Information, POEM, Poetry, poetry 2000's, Writing
Tagged angry, art, corporate, corporate crime, corporate leader, existence, homeless, insider trading, leader, leaders, life, POEM, Poetry, poetry 2000's, robbed, white collar crime
As the rain gently creeps down the window,
it becomes a metaphor of nature crying.
Can you help,
or do you ignore?
My friends, the birds, are lost,
the poor conditions made it difficult to soar.
Did you notice the terror in the trees
when you cut them down?
Maybe you didn’t care
that you cause so much fear.
If you would only take more than a glance,
you would see a refreshing hope,
but you never give us a chance
to use the environment as a means to cope.
Do you care about anyone but yourselves?
You’re not the only one to live.
You never answered our call.
Why? We never wanted you to give.
you could see a good glory.
It’s obvious you care about one thing:
your own story.
I wrote this in the mid 90’s. I can’t explain the way Henry David Thoreau’s writings expanded my mind, my thoughts. I read a soft cover collection of his works until it literally fell apart. I guess it reflects in the content.
Posted in Arts and Sciences, Creative, entertainment, General, Heartbreak, Inspiration, love, POEM, Poetry, poetry 1990's, Writing
Tagged care about more than you, existence, Heartbreak, Henry David Thoreau, idealistic, Inspiration, love, nature, POEM, Poetry, poetry 1990's, soaring birds
In life, we create the fire of thought. Sparks from neurons
create ideas, leading to the flames – our questions – how and why.
The answers inspire art, fun, war, and misery; all resources
In death, we create the fire of life. Our bodies deposited deep
in the ground or spread across the surface, food for the bugs
and plants that rise up, help sustain existence. We are born from fires
below the earth.
A poem I have worked on the last couple of years, 2015, I’ll probably continue to edit along the way.
Posted in Arts and Sciences, Creative, entertainment, General, POEM, Poetry, Poetry 2010-2020, Writing
Tagged concept, death, existence, fire, life, life concepts, meaning of life, POEM, Poetry, poetry 2010-2020's, renewal, thoughts