THE END OF INNOCENCE Listening to Henley’s – Heart of the Matter
Just when you think you’re ‘grown’ – Oh no, honey. That never-ending day? Just beginning
You don’t see the Heart of the Matter Until bits of flesh and brain matter come at you Flying with force spraying red onto the porch and the Window glass of the passenger’s side We draw our curtains – to watch the trial As the beast, powered by fear – goes dark Returning in a suit and tie – explaining itself to White juries – Some will empathize As science explains quickening heartrates The Battle Royale; An amygdala punching its way to gold Destroying its prefrontal cortex Science will explain ‘early trauma’ choking up What resembles pity for the perp Whose name we know Not the victims’ though. They die twice Getting lost as we scatter The holy water of good intentions Over the mass graves Of forgotten identities Forgotten answers Emotional forensics Why we fear? Why we hate? Why we act? Why we don’t? We fail every day that We don’t eradicate what kills us With every bullet With every dollar rise in A murderous stock pumped up In ability to kill and enrich at once The mass murder of hope suspiciously Triggered by happy believers Those with thoughts and prayers Like casket wreaths Obscuring the many Hearts that matter
REINCARNATION
I’LL BE A WOMAN MODIFIED
CARRYING MY WOMB
STRAPPED OUTSIDE
OPEN CARRY
MY MOIST BENDOLIER
EXOSKELETON WEAPON
STRIKING FEAR
I’LL TAKE IT INTO
DONUT SHOPS
ICE CREAM
and PIZZA MOM & POPS
LET LITTLE MEN KNOW
THE FEAR HAS STOPPED
I’LL FLICK THEIR HEADS
OFF MY SHOULDER WITH EASE
COMFORT-SEEKING VERMIN
I’LL NOT APPEASE
THEY’LL PROFESS TO ME
THEIR LOVE AND LIGHT
BEFORE VOTING AND
RECANTING MY RIGHTS
WHEN I RETURN
NO REGRESSION
TO THE MEAN
I’LL HAVE A LIFE WITH MORE RIGHTS
THAN AN AR-15
G.D. FELDMAN 6/2022
MAYBE
It has occurred to me
That
I may not live long enough
To love my neighbor
Indeed
We may all perish if we don’t learn (quickly)
To love one another
And maybe this is the deficiency – like the dinosaurs
That will bring about our extinction
ADULTING
Aristotle says;
Education is the best survival tool for old age
What Ari doesn’t know is that the
Truth found in education at night
Is now the lie used against you
Circling the continent twice by the
Time you awake
But you carry on as if it hasn’t
•
There’s frustration in being adult
When grown men fight in high-rise sandboxes
In suits bullet-proofed with dollar signs
But you carry on as if they don’t
•
There’s frustration in behaving grown up
When the agony of the human condition
Can be rationalized
And we carry on as if it isn’t
•
There’s frustration in being grown up
When the door to respond-in-kind
Remains locked by decency
Yet you pull on it anyway – as if it isn’t
•
There’s frustration in being grown-up
Knowing that civilizations have been lost to dreams of retribution
Ungovernable desires
For the “blood-dimmed tide”
To drown the babble
AND the rabble
But you desire it anyway
•
There’s frustration in being grown-up
Knowing the constancy of war
Feeling the subliminal connections between
Truth and chaos.
And we carry on anyway
Holding our truth in hands folded in supplication
As we kneel, unreasonable, at the edge of age
Amid the *signs that tell us to behave like adults
*Invisible ink
•
We drag our middle-class, care-worn hearts
Across years of capitalist tyranny
Through periods of relative decorum
Retreating waves allowing enemies
Time to deep-fake truth
And we must behave as if they aren’t?
GROWNUP FRUSTRATION
There’s frustration in behaving like a grown-up
It’s knowing that the lie told against you this morning
Has spanned the continent twice by the
Time you awake
But you carry on as if it hasn’t
There’s frustration in being the grown up
When grown men fight the way they do
In suits armored with dollar signs
But you carry on as if they don’t
There’s frustration in behaving grown up
When the agony of the human condition
Is reduced to excuses
And blame
And you carry on as if it isn’t
There’s frustration in being grown up
When the door to respond-in-kind
Is locked just by decency
Yet you pull on it anyway – as if it isn’t
There’s frustration in being grown-up
Where relief is found in dreams
Ungovernable desires
For the “blood-dimmed tide”
To drown the babble
AND the rabble
But you desire it anyway
There’s frustration in being grown-up
In knowing the constancy of war
Is but subliminal chaos disguised as
A throw of the dice
From congressional pits
And we carry on anyway
we adults –
As if it isn’t
Dragging care-worn, frustrated hearts
Across mountains of tyranny
Through valleys of decorum
We’ll wrest the locks from ballot boxes
And slay the lie
Leaving no weapons
To defend it
PANDEMIC POLITICS
What is there to make the heart swell
Against those ungovernable desires?
Wars; showdowns at
The corral
The jungle
The beach
The half-learned lessons class
The thin stream of info-wire
Signifying new battlegrounds
Sneaky. Anonymously mean
And wrong
Stabbing at our rucksacks
Full of unused Gods
•
What poetry can hold
What it can’t
Anger controlled
By rhyme or meter
Impolite bluster
Baroque or scant
Edgy words on pages teeter
Sweet noises overrun morning thunder
Evening song diminished in
Skeins of days torn asunder
•
May November carry our souls
From a hell lined with poetry stole
From that Shredded Parchment,
Now lying in confetti baskets,
To be strewn in ignorant rapture,
Over brides, babies, and caskets
MUSIC: LISTENING TO THE OLDIES
There’s a reason why it’s still here
That “old” music, emblematic of all our firsts
History, instrument-etched
Rhythmic scorching guitars
Saxophones – longing or lucky
Pianos running us up and down
ranges of emotion
Bass and drums defibrillating
beatless hearts
All spooning with words
That led us in that timeless
Continuous dance
Along the Watchtower
Among the purple flowers
In that Purple Haze
There’s a reason for “oldies stations”
Sanctuaries for melodic reminders, telling us
Passion, its usefulness, is deathless
As long as humans prevail
“Old–school” music will continue
Demanding answers to questions
That should have been asked
Of the past
THOUGHTS FROM THE CENTER RING
It is inaccurate to say that I hate
everything. I am strongly in favor
of common sense, common honesty,
and common decency. This makes me
Forever ineligible for public office. H.L. Mencken
I’ve written about my perception of decency and, it appears, I am writing/preaching to the choir. My friends feel as I do.
As for people who see things differently there seems no “healthy” debate available to them. So far, it’s all been name-calling and put-downs. People who want healthy debate, it appears, are having that debate somewhere other than on social media. And, honestly, I’m not so sure decency should be debatable. Aren’t there are rules already set for what is decent in a democracy?
There are recognized standards for decency. There is the recognized standard of what is proper and in good taste. And we live in a democracy in which our representatives are expected and elected to adhere to a certain standard of decency. I find it difficult to understand those who support elected officials who fail to follow even the faintest path laid out by (what used to be) our collective decency.
In 1954, as an amazed television audience looked on, Boston Lawyer Joseph Welch – after one of his associates was accused by Joseph McCarthy, of having communist ties – responded with the immortal lines that ultimately ended McCarthy’s career:
“Until this moment, Senator, I think I never really gauged your cruelty or your recklessness.” When McCarthy tried to continue his attack, Welch angrily interrupted, “Let us not assassinate this lad further, senator. You have done enough. Have you no sense of decency?”
What has happened to our collective sense of decency? When did it become okay to be cruel and reckless with the lives and well-being of American citizens and other people around the world?
Where is our sense of decency?
This is a question that should haunt us because the answer will certainly define us as we move forward.
Gwen's World 