Why Do I Write

 

A compliment received,

the feeling that is is deserved escapes me.

I find nothing within

nor in my words that does not exist in all.

I've grown tired, as we all should be,

of what we see in this country

and the world in general.

Though there is kindness and respect

still spread widely across the globe,

it is the violence toward and hatred of others

that seems to have the loudest voice.

One tree may dwarf another,

yet they grow side by side.

Their leaves may appear different,

yet in the fall together they cover the forest floor

protecting their common roots during winter.

They are like those children of various colors

who play peacefully together

before they are taught hatred for their differences

How can they survive when the men of today,

the enemy of all things natural

continues to abuse all that is around him.

Why do I write?

Why do I share my words?

Do they make any difference to anyone?

Or are they simply written to remind myself,

serving no other purpose?

Is There Not A Better Way

Freedom, where art thou

behind these locked doors

there once was a day

a man could feel safe while venturing beyond his doorway

now I feel prisoner to todays world

on our streets

modern day cowboys with their concealed pistols

ar-15s carried across their backs on slings

why should we be forced to live in fear

having to decide

which of these men are the good guys with a guns

and which is a threat

there is no freedom in a prison of fear

Things Is Backwards

The war machine

Always fed first

The budget for weapons

Never suffers from thirst

While children lay hungered

And vets become homeless

These priorities in America

Leave the populus hopeless

The Footbridge

I sat with my legs dangled over the side,

Listening to natures chorus and the voice of the falls.

Hours spent searching within.

So much sorrow found!

The realization of just how far man has erred haunts my soul.

This beauty missed in the never ending hustle and bustle.

Life has so much more to offer.

It is not only this stream that humanity is leaving behind.

The love and respect for all things has been left at the wayside.

But I had come to think,

To rest from reality and fantasize how the world could be healed.

The sounds of the forest along with the falling water returned.

I felt joyful that my heart had not grown cold,

That the way man had turned against man still bothered me.

I found a certain comfort as I now knew I could still live with who I was.

I think I will stay a while longer and sit

with my legs dangled over the side of this beautiful little footbridge

and listen some more to natures music

and the voice of the falls.

The Cabin

Blessed by the surrounding forest

so thick with spruce

their boughs reaching low to the ground

there was a natural protection from the winter winds

The snows

when they came

fell gently

covering the ground all about his cabin

Though temperatures would drop outside

within the cabin there was a comfortable warmth

supplied by the ever present embers

found at the base of the hearth

Tonight, the snows were held at bay

it was a bright and wonderful full moon

reflecting from the surface of yesterdays snow

giving an eye opening bit of entertainment

As he gazed out his window

he stood watching as a beautiful buck

emerged from the trees

he was soon joined by a large doe

Within minutes

his entire clearing was filled

with deer

searching for a meal

It was for these nights

he had left the rat race of city life

gone off the grid

and returned to days gone by

There is no Free Lunch

An entire gallery of minds eye paintings,

unseen by those who demand spoon feeding.

Mindless entertainment has stolen their ability to think,

to form pictures from their own imaginings,

to experience adventures where they've not been led.

The path beyond the bramble will never be found

if a traveler refuses to work their way through the thorns.

Brothers of Respect

Though we may disagree, it matters not

brothers of respect for others is what we are,

or at least should be

there are times we are tried

the line becomes thin

we question whether each other is deserving

our show of respect vanishes

these are the times that our demons win

these are the times our humanity suffers

these are the times we should be ashamed of ourselves

without that show of respect

we become politicians