A Pretense of an Ark

The Fourth World does not emerge,

it is filled with change and yet,

in essence, it stays the same

It is an endless rain of danger

and death impatiently awaits;

although it  arrives both early and late.

The Fourth World was not discovered

It was born full grown, from those who own

The means to kill easily and at will, fill

the unpaid bills of generations past; it remains

a dark evil that lasts past sunrise.

The Fourth World is not a hell-bent continent

But an archipelago of human pain, where endless strife

strains the sinews of life. Pausing barely for breath

It lurches and careens down a mountain like

Boulders falling in an avalanche, woe be unto…

The path is strewn and the wreckage can break

The hard heart of the world, yet withstands

Turn the head, avert the heart, close the purse

Build walls of forgiving news, fold it into a blur

Undisturbed- the peace is a momentary glance;

A random dance to music from a source unknown

It is day and the steady rhythm is a racing heartbeat

The flare of sirens feed reports of success

on a Wall Street news ribbon. For in the Fourth World,

There are few remaining tears, the past has dreary years

and tomorrow the forecast is easy to say, more like today.

When sunlight fills the air, clouds make pretense of an Ark,

birds swoop low, and from a clearest glow of day comes

the deepest gray…the sudden flash and thunder, and

suddenly un-breathable air fills the suddenly un-breathing.

_________________________________________________

Author's Note:

There is a Fourth World where war and conflict run rampant like virulent disease. It is in Gaza, Syria, Iraq, Donetsk,  Central Africa, and Nigeria. Like a chain of islands surrounded by an unseen sea of utter turmoil, and they are connected by dreadful circumstance. It is up to the rest of us, the custodians of this planet- our lifeboat in the coldest Sea to do what must be done to bring the people of the Fourth World out of the grips of savagery. There have been heroic efforts and there have been instances of blind-eyed neglect. The fury of war is not a tame beast, it will always escape and find a new prey; it is the global human imperative, no one is safe from war until all are.

flames

Struck as if from pure air
a fire of the spirit catches and invents itself-
a formless filament nurtured by the essence of grief and loss-
fanned by  powerful winds of change
Breathing as if living for the lost
it rises upon unseen waves,
fills the already full hearts
that wonder after justice

Heaven is a place within the soul
that accepts peace of the righteous
it is to the outward eye
a fury... a burning rage

Yet to those who hunger so deeply
it is the rest of the unending urgency
to bring life from wrongs, to raise an altar
for the sacrifices that have been made.



-----------------------
Thousands of people march and protest the wrongful killings of Black men and boys in America; it is a movement begun from the hearts of those who value life...hdm

Kyiv - a chapter falls

There is fire in the ice,
as if made to still, the gleam
of a more distant sun pales
against the eye's-own anger
and the heart's rush of heat.

There is fire in the icy breath
as if dragons and beasts of fury,
that crowd the mind's theater,
act out upon a glossy stage;
so much rage displayed for consumption
of a greater beast, the global feast
upon sudden misery.

[Democracy has a messy birth]

It is in the waning hours of each day,
the play unwinds; a chapter falls,
and winds of change carry
a stench of burnt tires.

For some it is a whiff of a window
from west into the west, to others a stain
upon a treasure- and Kyiv can bleed,
hot defiant blood, for change is also...
a fire, in the ice. 

a time of stones

We are bound to a time
tethered like an umbilical --
life is time in a womb.

I am found in a stream
heart- deep in this serum heat.
In a sudden swirl, spun left and right
losing sight of sky and sands;
I am closed-eyed, left to reel
in howls of side-swum souls.

Amid sharp pulls of swiftly-moving flow
left to see from-within and know
ignorance too has a place in the Sun.
When yearning for truth is undone
by passion to make hatreds into stone,
stones into walls, and walls into an age of stones.
When black-hole minds cheat the unborn day
and keep darkness within dread and shadow.

( in this dream my hand sets to ground
upon scorpion sting, back reclines
upon a viper's tooth, and in sounds of thunder
the night reveals her fiery wounds)

We are creatures of love and fear;
to foment ignorance, we too are Godly;
we can create a universe and dwell therein...forever.

rain dreams...

Cold soaks pierce the calm,
feet take flight, skim rivulets;
in the sting of sweet water
running through the rain.

The meanings of spring rains take hold
grasses shed excess and concrete sieves
conform to the needs of the moment-
clouds spill and we become
the windy mix of hurry and reflex.

It should be thus, the plants and I
in a bow and revel for we all grow
in the wet and green; but so far removed
from the smell of lightning
so far distant from echoes of thunder
modern man- in leather bound feet-
cannot joyful, thrash in the
bounty of rains, not well wish each drop
for the nurture of a seed.

We cannot fathom the ultimate need,  yet we
creatures of love and fear, sea born and
in this blend of wind and popping drops;
I find a soul satisfying melody.

I listen... as I would hear wisdom of the world
I sense... as if I were a forgotten dry place
I  know my skin drinks-in this day
am soaked again in what makes me:
the water's child.

Mandela

remembering-
one man brought
a rise to freedom's call,
brings a million tears-
remembering

haiku, hokku yugen

 (haiku)
faithful time...
the shepherd that keeps
every lamb

(haiku)
like summer moons-
another's light makes us
more beautiful

(haiku)
the soldier's graveyard...
falling leaves cannot cover
so many wars

(hokku)
river at dusk...
a single plume lights the way
to the sea

(hokku)
shooting star...
joined with the night
once again


 (hokku)

across my yard
pouring silver drops ...
a chalice  moon

a forgotten view

greed, a servant of a wasteful few
in golden fog boundless, above
a forgotten view, too long misplaced
virtue, the needs of the needful.

Greed, a waster of the precious many:
bloodline of  heroes, innocents;
life givers, rescuers, vaunt
angels in wait, bearers of
witness in a journey to
our more distant tomorrows-
when even gold and diamonds
will fade away -when memory captures
an enduring grace,
a cup of milk and a hungry child.

Sandy...

 in a place called Sandy...

felt a human storm

the crushing weight like

great wind driven tides

takes away the sun and air

a place suddenly beneath the sea

and a chill to the spirit;

frozen by sheer coldness of this day.

When finally falls to night, darkness

brings its cycle, yet some do not

close ends...missing ends, when  Love suspends 

flown into most difficult breath.

When the air is softened

slowed by beats of heavy hearts,

stilled by angel wings;

a sliver of Moon glistens

as the night also… has a fresh teardrop

warm boots

no violent  crime in NYC today

a day like none any could recall

when the sirens flared , red lights flashed

for ease of movement in traffic

riding among a sea of yellow, accustomed

to alarm in radio voices, the edge of the edgy day

dulled by passage, coffee and sweets, and passage

no violence today.

There were harsh words on airwaves

right about this and wrong about that

Brooklyn against the heroes of MSG

the gridiron titans, and destiny; Yankees

all in passionate NewYork-ese but not

the raised hand, no angry turn of no return

no violent crime in NYC today

I thought it was a sign,

thought to go look for Jesus up in Harlem

One policeman went viral, warm boots

for a shoeless man, so cold these streets

so warm one heart…then watched by  many more;

this touch like Jesus in midtown Manhattan

no violent  crime today

NYC …then the world.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-20536201

warm boots

A poem for the next five minutes

Ann said “I would die for my country

for my kids and my country…” and some

few - in an insect nuisance manner- picked and pecked.

Ahhhh  Ann, oh my, so sassy, so SHEroic,
so full of antipathy for those small minds
that seem to crawl up our ankles to bite
and make us itch—irritating sons of a bitch--
like human No-see-ums

and then their thoughts
a roll of nerdish, troll-ish polysyllabic gibberish

sophistry pretended by  mere grunts and ass-scratch

But Ann-
Of course, we would die for our country
our enemies give us no choice
they kill us for our country.
On the battlefield there used to be
a kind chivalry or gallantry
nobles once jousted til a fall
but in Japan for millennia it was heads that fell
deadly serious stuff
then the English also got tough, counter-revolt
burned churches full of people
We kicked their asses back across the Atlantic then
but now play nice (--) ahhh,  Diana
you were the only Royal I was crazy for
the rest are simply crazy to believe
they are God's gift...I mean if George III
was dropped on his head as a Baby—

I'd think George Bush was too (--)

Ahh Ann, I have the concentration of pregnant flea
what was I saying-- ahh yes

those little vipers and snipers

those who know there is no God
that a Black President must be guilty
of something[ bin Laden, Benghazi,  been something!!!...]

I pity them

so small these minds and in such a big world of possibility
them stuck in a time warp:  myth of white superiority
[shit haven't you seen Mitt Romney!!!] WTF--- anyway

we die

for Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann
for the draft dodging Chicken Hawks:
Bush, Romney, Cheney and a cast of bastards
who send our children to die for their money.

We die for street thugs who'd bust a cap in our ass
to steal a car because their  broke-dick
sorry selves can’t buy one

We die for lying lawyers, cheating CPA's
bankers who steal from other bankers who have already stolen
for priests who assault young boys, flaming
assholes who want women to die because they dislike choice

We die, for the slaves who were kidnapped, raped and murdered-
worked to early death to make America rich;
we die for dead heroes of wars and their children
orphans and for women who raise families alone
only to be told they are worthless

--PLEASE VOTE FOR ME, said Romney that little MITT--

We die for Corporate People who neither hunger nor bleed

nor leave orphans

We die for faith in hope, for hope's dying sake
we give up our mortal hold

and know that only by love
of the despicable and the beautiful
the angelic and demonic, the prideful
and the humble  by every billion-breathed creature
only by love-- do we live on.

when peace intrudes...

the next war
has already begun, building
from a deep reservoir of greed.
It was planted by the last war, and bowered
an "anti-flower" gone to bad seed, sown.
Were there a non-fertile place in the world:
an acquired immunity to diseases of violence?

It will be fought for the same reasons
as the last, some nation's pride offended,
some interest curtailed, some strong arm yet to be tested.

Some new things will be, awful certainties
in glassy eyes that cease to see;
where and when they might be
come stilled, depite every natural will
every reason of beauty, every call to destiny
every reach for another chance to have been
some other time, some other place
in some other magic wish to fly away.

The next war is in the air, in hearts of men
begun as a trickle  to become a pour
until ground runs red with dearest loves;  and dread
is a stare on a shadowless floor, a voice heard not more.
in air bombs bursting....I long for a time

when reason rains to make  gleams of flame
when peace intrudes upon councils of the mighty
when love dispels words of fear spilled
from self-exalted thrones, beauty rises to displace
power fed by true angers for false injury.

A day when God's memory is long and men easily forgive,
learn the painful ways of justice: to stand
in the light of all we have done, offer back
what was won by taking breath and freedom.

I long for a day, when fury sits and peace stands
when ambitions of mankind flow like a mountain stream
gathered from tiny drops to build into a roar-
a voice within the mind's own speech-

that peace holds us, shapes and molds us
into something greater than has ever been.
Into a world bent on generous life, abundant years
the worth of existence measured
by its own boundless possibilities.

Public Opinion

Chased even in your dreams

uneasy sleep molts into groggy morn

every connection to wide webbed world

brings the onslaught closer

Public Opinion once such a passive life

a few sales, surprise products shown

your agility was legendary, but now

you are stiff and boor-ed, a starved fox

before the hunt

unleashed hounds of hellish amounts of gold

track you and grind you down, a Pawn

in a game of Kings.

I see you, your frightened eyes

rings beneath the bulged bags, poor eyes

once dwelled in beauty and laughter.

Now the war machine would again make slaughter.

Dirty burners wishes to suck the last of your air,

and heated days that were so false so recently

have burned your nerves to a fray.

I see you wandering alleys to stay away

from main streets, holding self close

in dark alleys where sounds of stray cats is all

Squeezed shut, eyes yet pierced by wireless spies

whose lies can only be detected by guardians (--)

asleep!! they have all gone to sleep from wine songs,

long gone; the sleepless pens, vigils of truth(--)

now you’re on rooftops baying to August full Moons.

I hear your once melodious voice, gone now;

comes like a drag of chains upon stone-

and the awful lonely sound of it- 

makes me weep.

__________________________________

Notes:

The US has been changed by an Supreme Court ruling that struck down limitations on Corporate spending on political campaigns and elections( referred to as Citizens United).  The Democratic process is now for sale to the biggest spenders if repetitive volumes of messaging and advertising have the predicted effects.  Public opinion once an elusive thing will be more like a target with a bright bull's eye- the target of unlimited assaults from businesses that would change us in ways citizens would not imagine or prefer- such as a constant use of warfare( war is a very lucrative business-Iraq probably yielded $500 Billion in profits), no taxes on the rich, no limits on pollution, abandoning public education-- which in the bottom line are costs businesses would prefer not to bear.  Public opinion- a trapped and hunted animal now- alone and driven into the streets...HDM