Nothing’s What it Once Was

Cars once used for leisurely Sunday drives are now killing machines. KKK extremists once dressed in clean white sheets to conceal soiled souls now parade out in the open. Bigotry, racism, and hatred crawl out of the gutter. Those putrid pimps peddle their poisons to the lowest bidder. Such a bitter taste on the tongue when sweet love leaves the equation. Nothing adds up to equal anything good. 

What They Don’t Want

People of all colors & creeds living together in peace. Guns & bombs melted down to paperweights. Wisdom, equanimity. The great minds of our generation gathered together, exploring ways for us to live in health, wealth & harmony. Libraries of tranquility where there are never any late fees. Curing epidemics & stamping out systemic racism & greed–that's what they don't want: for everyone to live comfortably in their own skin. The human spirit, a bright billboard along life's highway. That's what they don't want, that bunch of small-minded, thin-skinned, dark-hearted crushers of love. 

My Kind of Bombs

Pet bombs. Poetry bombs. Bombs of lazy summer days & intoxicating sunset bombs. Beer bombs, water bombs. Geranium & sunflower bombs. Van Gogh starry night bombs. The kids are alright & light my fire bombs. Enormous bombs engorged with gorgeousness. Bombs exploding with civil rights & mighty James Brown beats. Peace for president bombs. Anti "fire and fury" bombs. Bach, Beethoven & Brahms bombs. Only you can save us from North Korea, Dennis Rodman bombs. H-bombs where the H stands for happiness. A-bombs where the A stands for adoration.

Something About the Dark

Evening comes our way, all lightning-haired and starry-eyed. She's an elegy, not an effigy. Clarity, not calamity. Even when streets are flooded with deceit, she burns sweet with song. Even when mercilessness spreads its pestilence, she still shines her diamond bright. No smoke and mirrors. Only hope and miracles. Here comes evening, all heaven-eyed and moon mighty. Tattooed across her heart, the words we long to hear: Even in the dark, love still dwells. 

There’ll Be Those Days

Days when lunatics rip wings off butterflies, when beauty is grounded, and madmen ride doomsday sidesaddle. Days when violence, treachery, and bigotry are the unholy trinity. When intuition's GPS is on the fritz, leaving us in blind alleyways–bugged, mugged, drugged. Here's to a shot of blackbird whiskey to sing away the blues. A North Star for a third eye to guide us brightly home. Here's to realizing that nowhere can be everywhere when witnessing the world through soul-colored glasses.