one day you wake up
to see if your cup
is half full
no wait, that’s bull
not a cup, it’s a glass
i feel like an ass
got my metaphors mixed
hafta get that stuff fixed
or i’m gonna get nixed
in my quest for a clue
as to what i can do
to deal with this life
the collateral strife
i feel
at times is unreal
tryin’ to do the right thing
not just take, but to bring
to the table
the hope that i’m able
to make a real diff
even if
this riff
seems tired and trite
and i get so damn tight
i still gotta try
not just to get by
“to line up to die”
but figure out why
the sky
and i
are blue
and why i can’t deal
does everyone feel
that way too
when we’re young we are told
not to hate or be cold
to be fair
and to care
perhaps even bare
our souls
stop playing roles
be kind
use our minds
and our hearts
to make a real start,
beat a path to fruition
instead of perdition
but here’s the big fix
like a huge ton of bricks
just who
do
we look to
when our heroes are gone
and a marathon
of grifters and cheats
and corporate deadbeats
have taken the reigns
and become the real banes
of existence
where’s “the resistance?”
when bias and hate
seem to be the main trait
of those who’re in charge
and enlarge
with their copious lies
everything we despise
these days i refuse
to turn on the news
the cancerous greed
that foments and breeds
threatens our souls
and north and south poles
of a world
being hurled
back into the stark
dark
ages again
read a pain scale of 10
while i scratch with my pen
and sit on my fence
afraid that i’ll fall
as i try to make sense
of it all
here’s the part
where i start
to talk about love
and powers above
not corn and cliché
and memes of the day
but of spiritual teachers
and lamas and preachers,
who speak of a way
of keeping at bay
the “things” and beliefs
we think give relief
to our agonized brains,
the completely insane
craving
and slaving
for something to fill
an unfillable hole
an unpayable bill
an unreachable goal
they tell us straight up
‘bout that glass or that cup
and ask us to stop
take a deep breath and pop
the bubble in which we are trapped
where our energy’s sapped
cause we want things to change
or at least rearrange
gotta crop ideations
and blind machinations
abandon all stations -
and run for the hills
stop taking those pills
and loose
the noose
of success
where we make others less
so we can be more
as we slam the steel door
on our friends and our foes
not just step on their toes
but actually break them
humiliate them
obliterate them
whilethey’restuck in place
in the same old rat race
where nobody wins
and mother earth spins
flat out of control
spreading terror and fear
and plummeting near
an endless black hole
and so now back to the top
and tryin’ to cop
a solution
not retribution
the state that we’re in?
unoriginal sin
and it’s got me on pins
and needles, i’m weak
but i still hafta speak
for the answer i seek
in the midst of this bleak
and frightening time
ain’t blind
ambition…
divine intuition
is our greatest resource
and only recourse
not power or pride
but what’s hidden inside
not who i should be
some recycled me
but who - i am
not my race or my fam
or gender or sex
the flecks
on my skin
the house i live in
to whom do i pray
or what taxes i pay
the words that i say
or my d n a
beyond all those things
and the pain that they bring
is an essence
a presence
a wee mustard seed
that can nourish and feed
a desire
to put out the fire
of envy and greed
and obsessional need
to wit, be the change
i want in the world
with it’s myriad strange
and warring flags furled
we can’t alter the masses
or countries or classes
the gangs or police...
but we can have peace
if we realize
that the grand freakin’ prize
is held in our eyes
the connection we seek
comes from turning our cheek
admitting we’re wrong
showing we’re weak
that’swhatmakes us strong
and i know it seems odd
not to use the word, god
when talking like this
but I fear some will miss
the meaning
and even stop leaning
hard toward the light
and probably fight
‘bout that word and whose right
and wrong
it’s gone on for so long
too much history
dissecting
and autocorrecting
a mystery
so great
it baits
our breath
awaits
our death
no, no, the solution
and simple ablution’s
to drop every name
erase every blame
and put out our hands
share our money and lands
pare off the pride
and stand side by side
just right where we are
under the stars
from which we are made
full-on unafraid
to take action
and make this abstraction:
“thy will” willbe done
through the stark
revelation
that our population’s
not trillions or billions or millions... but one
by R. Hoehler