And I would not be convicted by a jury of my peers.~Paul Simon

I receive my invitation to bitch
and frankly, all the dogs in the ‘hood
are howling, the uproar’s pitch
kidnaps serenity.

Ransom demands I rage against
inequality/moral scruples now cynical/
abandon tin-whistle marches through the capitol
when war is palpable.

We finally see the global military
empire feeds in battle.
Cages might rattle but I know
they will acquit before the trial.

The roiling unrest, ’cause shit…
The few dial in, take and defend
and we haven’t yet beseeched
snarling junkyard dogs chained out of reach

weaponized and mindless, intent to take
a bite of juicy steak
dangled in the empty air
a lure devised by a billionaire.

But we’re on our way, yipping and cowed
urged by machines’ monotone shrill/
inner peace unplowed/in overkill
we’re losing ground/the mystery

earth walled off and separate
out of time that hurries
us to our doom/it’s all gloom
until we see life’s unfair on the surface

but go deep: magnetic presence
powers us when we are locked
in sth/squabbling lies crafted
just to guide our energy/

that valuable asset
we so willingly provide.
Who gathers up our sweat
and gushes, well, at least you tried?

Inspired by Kidnap, Scruples, Acquit, Inequality and two dogs enjoying the beach near Lima, Peru.

Soundcloud recording here.

A Portrait Emerges

My daily practice is to walk memory lane
shining light into dark places.
And the fact is, it’s on another plane
the birthright and the so-called empty
spaces (where we’re filled with fire,
the electrical impulse of our desire.)

A portrait emerges,
flickers through time and now
a portal to a child’s rhymes
through the smoky haze
those early days touched
piano bench posture, fingers flying
lyrics voiced repel the lying.

And then the graveyard shift,
digging up bones, the long-forgotten
roots surely the key, my pedigree
stories carved into my DNA
the wave that carries me.
Like peering into a crystal ball
or to the stars, the all-
encompassing need to understand
just who I am.

The screen changes, lyrics
long hair bent over guitar
plucking emotions like strings
ah, the power to sing.
Add this trip to the realm
of rainbow trees, pure love
shimmers radiant, slip,
another shift.

Drift into travel without any fear
that I could feel, backpack
alone through jungles, dive
into chum-baited waters.
Deceived and disconnected.
Now a belief in angels
feeling the jerk out of danger
into grace. My heart-race.

Always the woods, pulled into
sacred by the trees, seated
in peace, a wiser woman
watches.  The retrieval celebrated
by a flying eagle—who disappears

into gray, the illusion spinning
in every way fog through cultural
myths, the shock of we
coming with these fragmented
pieces, drawn
like splinters magnetized
onto the lodestone of attention
the separation gone.

Inspired by: Portrait, Dark, Daily and Memory Lane and a golden eagle soaring through my writing this morning.

Listen to this on soundcloud.

Finally, finally

Do you always trust your first initial feeling?
Special knowledge holds true, bears believing.
I turned around and the water was closing all around
Like a glove, like the love that had finally, finally found me.~Stevie Nicks

I want to school her in yes and
clinging to her ideals sunders

our agreement. I say, be cautious
of labels and she says it shouldn’t

matter, only right action does.
The judgment of what is right

so nebulous it creates a fissure
and our power diminishes. We wade

through tidal pools, chasing
the truth while ancient coral

cuts into our flesh as jagged
matter does. We reach the sea

at last, this pulsing vital force
like love, too endless to name

even though it’s often claimed
in the beginning was the word.
Continue reading Finally, finally

This Pure Anguish

“All youth are at greater risk when their elders try not to be at risk at all.” — Michael Meade

I can no longer blush.
When I was young, I was taught to slink
by the powers who should have protected.
Today I throw off that well-worn
blanket that never shielded me,
so why the hell did I cower,
like a dog waiting for the next kick?
No more. The children rise
up and demand to be safe —
too late for their own blushes,
their innocence betrayed.
They are not hiding, looking for the escape hatch.
They are marching in the streets
again, alone and fierce
so young and savvy.
Their blindfolds have been ripped off
and they are not wasting time
blinking in this harsh reality.
What cruelty is this, when a child
is abandoned
by the people in power?
What community herds their children
into windowless boxes and
shoots them? Walk out,
oh vulnerable young.  Keep calling for us,
the elders, to waken
from our confused slumber,
this distraction called the mainstream,
fear strangling
our disillusioned ideals, hopelessness
like dementia that keeps us apart.
I am old now with nothing
to lose: it is time to give them
what I never had, what I know now.
The foundation is rotted
and there is much work for us all.
We must dig together
down to the heart of the matter
where love speaks the message:
wake up, wake up, you are needed here.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: blush

Speaking From Silence

“Your mess is your message.” — Emily Blefeld

Can I dare to show up like this,

messy as a child who has been playing

in the mud

wearing her best white Sunday school dress

and having lost a shoe?

Recrimination is unavoidable.

This little girl

creating chaos

with the joy of discovery

had it punished out of her

by busy adults who didn’t bother

to keep her safe.

When does she get to say out loud,

I am afraid?

I need some space here.

I carry her sometimes deep

in my heart, but at other times

she grabs the wheel and

she is speeding away from all of you

with complete disregard

for the rules of safety.

When I feel strong, I peel back layers

of uncompromising

shame, guilt, fear

that have been dressing me up

as reasonable, even civilized.

It’s not that I want to appear before you

naked, but I am impelled to strip

away cultural inhibitions

and language that stifles

my creativity.

I will not be silenced;

without words the powerful force



transforms the world.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: messy