God and the Stars

He sees the world in black and white,
sows the seeds of PTSD in blood stained dreams
and fights to get right.

Constantly pulling at the weeds
He’s a gardener to irreversible things
exhausted and always working,
as his purple heart bleeds.

And bandaids?

Well they don’t fit the needs of a War Wounded Soldier
walking with the weight of the world on his shoulder

So sometimes,
he goes a little crazy.

Reverts back through time
back to the days he
fought through enemy lines
and stood tall with giants.

Celebrating every breath as a triumph.
Now,
he wakes most mornings with regret.

Sometimes wishing that he got hit
always wishing that his friends didn’t
and that they were still breathing.
And that he wasn’t left here longing
for the laughter of his pals.

See,
they seen good times for miles
and seen things the average citizen couldn’t stomach.
He fights this war now
because the average citizen wouldn’t.

And don’t you dare say that he shouldn’t
because we’re all blessed to still be alive and bitching.

You know motives of war are nearly never right,
but misjudging a soldier
or the reasons that they fight,
makes an ungrateful ass out of you and I.

And honor is something that should never be denied
to the men and women willing to fight
ensuring that their families sleep safe and sound tonight.

Keeping this country comfy ever more.
Shit!
He hasn’t slept right since he left that damn war.

Once a soldier in arms,
now pierced with ink
to cover up scars that are more than skin deep.

He’s misunderstood by his family and friends
and he’s bolder than the lines that now cover his skin

His home is cut deep by the shards of shattered windows and
the hinges are all jammed from being slammed
every time a door opens.

He screams inside himself on the daily!
wishing his world didn’t feel so broken.
And that he wasn’t stuck here self medicating his chaos addiction.

Because the best he can get from Veterans affairs,
is a hospital staffed full with doctors who don’t care
about much of anything except the money in their pockets.

Passing pills to their patients
and various suicide scripts

Perhaps he’s suffer less from this shit
if his government would actually deal with it
and provide a system that is fit
for a man of his hard stature to come home to.

Some rehabilitation and something to hold on to.

Something to keep him feeling as grand
as those giants turned memories
that he left in the sands
of Iraq and Afganistan.

Someone to hold his hand
and
be thankful for the fight that’s left in this man

To me,
he’s worth more than a damn

Paying for war with more than money and power

He’s worth more than the memorials
More than those towers

More than the funeral services
and all of those flowers

He’s worth more than the wooden cases
that now protect the fallen’s flags.

As a matter of fact,

he’s worth more than the Peace
that he’ll never get back.

And I thank God and the Stars that he made it this far.

Some days are rough.

Some nights are hard.

But I thank God and the Stars that he made it this far.

Culture Shock

The culture cures the madness
The chaos has no fear

The people are still living with eyes that don’t see clear.

They’re searching for the answers.
The who did what and how.

Hell bent on finding lies
knowing the truth will save them somehow.

Knowledge greater than power.

How have you been living?
How you want to live?

Unaware to the radar committing us of sin?

Does the man upstairs own you?
Or are you owning him?

And how’s your hospitality been?

Still pretending to be free in a world shackled by war and killing?

Leaders think they’re fly.
Fishing for Power
Misusing and abusing their bait.

Their boat will surely sink
if they continue to behave this way
and honestly I can’t wait.

Though I was made of
to live above
the water,
I’ve no fear of getting my feet wet.

This is just the tip of the iceberg
Chaos!
You ain’t seen shit yet!

And there are no excuses
for not utilizing your resources.

Please don’t assume that the peaceful are weak.

This comedy writing tragedy is not tongue and cheek
It’s a dilemma to be taken seriously.

How ya gonna survive
with drones in the sky
aimed at a target
and it’s your life?

How ya gonna make it to the truth
when the planes are still blasting lies all over the sky?

How ya gonna eat your food
when organisms are genetically modified
to make this your last bite?

Conspiracy theories can’t save you online!

Everything you read
Everything you post
it will define
you.

So be aware of who you are.

I believe that in spirit we start out equally high.
So don’t let the world break you down
and fuck with your eyes.

Think with your mind.

Put your money where your mouth is.
Word is
it’s the only weapon we’ve got left.

Remember the rich are there for a reason.

And it’s fine time we quit buying their bullshit
and financing their treason.

Take care of your families.

Don’t compromise love seeds.
Learn to til the soil
and watch life grow.

We’re all in this together.

Will we survive?
I really don’t know.

But when I die.
I will have already achieved freedom.

Cause ain’t no evil on this earth
gonna make me bleed weak.

I believe in good things.
I have solid dreams.
and each day I wake
to achieve them.

Deliverance

I watched the most beautiful thing the other day
It was a balloon. Red.
Escaped from the hands of a clown
and drifted
to soar and twirl
amongst the gray and white
Rainclouds.

I witnessed it fly free
and longed desperately
to be that red ball of helium
bout to bath in the sweet divinity of change
and wash it’s self clean of constraint.

And then
right there
my conscience tapped my shoulder
and said,

“Simmer down Child,
you know better than to waste a day wishing for the rain.
There’s no need to hope and pray that way. You’re the one making the weather.
You’re gonna go outside and check it out
whether or not it get’s any better
so change if you want change
and then so will the weather.”

And on such a gloomy day
the clouds broke away
revealed the Sun
and made a path
for that cherry bomb of Truth.

The heavens opened up and made room for that balloon.
And I knew that could be me too.
Re-acquainting myself with freedom.

My eyes welled with release
And soon
me and those rainclouds were crying.

And I’m not sure if it was the excitement of enlightenment
or the pain of sadness
that washed over me,
but I knew I would have to leave.

It’s a funny thing release,
when you realize you’ve got to let go.
It never comes with easy terms.
It pisses you off and it hurts.

And it awakens you
and it reminds you of your worth.
Fuels you with courage to fly,
with the courage to say good bye.

I learned a lot in the minutes
after that clown let go of the truth.

I learned that the Universe is playful
And balloons can be messengers
And woman can believe hers
And poets can be painters

And they’re all one artist
And that day
their masterpiece was
Deliverance.

Grown up Games

As a child,
I used to love to hide and seek
Now I’m sitting all alone,
thinking I was grown, but
it would appear that I forgot to grow up.

It took me 30 years to find a Love to get lost in.
I should have known better than to play such games by then,
but I wanted to win.

Desired more than the prettiest egg on Easter Sunday
kind of Love.
An I wanna win first place for real
kind of hunt and

I would have done anything to keep him.

He did what he had to
to keep me,
even if it meant lying and living in misery.

Duck, duck, duck, duck, goose!

Blinded by fear,
I chose not to see
in order to succeed.

Didn’t realize what a pal that failure would be.
Now failure and I run roses around the ring that he gave me.

We are best friends through out the day
and pen pals at night.

And in our old age
We’re sure to get arthritis
because when things go wrong
all we can do is write.

Red light, green light
I try hard not to miss the good times.

I try hard to stay mad at that belligerent boy of a man
who helped me forget who I am.

Helped me turn my back to childhood friends.
Helped rearrange my brain with pain
and keep me occupied just trying to mend.

And for that, I’ll never forget him.

He was puppeteer to my heart strings
and I never missed a show.

And I’m not sure how I’ll sing and dance again
with out the controlling glide of his hands,
but I sure am sure that I can.

Outside Spring time is blooming
with the laughter of children bouncing
free of fear

But I sit in the lonely rooms that we played house in,
day dream myself away from the pain,
and wonder why it all came to here .

Hash marks on the door frames that I fought my way out of remind me to grow.

I used to have chores like dishes and trash when I was growing in my Mother’s home.
Never dreamed I’d be cleaning the blood that was shed by a love
on the walls of my grown up house.

He’s been gone almost a month now,
and I still prick my feet from time to time
the picture perfect life that he shattered
the day that I finally ran.

Not our usual game of tag.

That last round, he didn’t catch me.
And I didn’t look back.