Selfies find me quite perturbed
one might say I look disturbed
it’s just that I’m fed up to here
with all the lies, truth is blurred
patience has been left behind me
might just loose my mind completely
madness seems to grip this world
that’s lost interest in reality
so who’s to say that I can’t fly
and whose right is it to question why
I wear my trousers inside out
it keeps the pockets dry
I see you smirking at my hat
it’s aluminum foil — imagine that
it helps with my cell phone reception
and fascinates my cats
yes I do lose track of time
hours, days — is that a crime
you know it’s all just one’s perspective
and I am very fond of mine
and I’ve a language of my own
like no other you’ve ever known
I speak it only to myself
and only when I’m all-alone
now if you see me on the street
notice the bells upon my feet
the ringing’s meant to scare you
not meant to be discreet
am I strange — perhaps that true
but I’m not nuts — I’m just offbeat
yet — sanity is so damned hard to find
this world has lost its fucking mind
These are some thoughts I posted to share on Earth Day 2010. They arose from my heart, and expressesed my great concern for this planet earth, and all of us who are traveling aboard her. What is sad is they are more relevant and concerning today, Earth Day 2024. If you are not in the mood for heavier fare, you can skip down to the haibun posted below this message.
For those reading here on, I see our global society becoming more and more desensitized to killing, suffering, the dignity of women, our failing stewardship of this planet, and the value of life in general.
Popular art reflects culture; it has in all of history. The ongoing proliferation of movies, video games, music, comic books, our dress and personal trappings, TV, even the TV commercials; this all cast a disturbing reflection of the direction a core section of the people of the earth are moving.
And the less than subtle movement to cast doubt, even ridicule, on those who believe that the care of this world needs our attention — NOW!
One might argue that any of these issues individually, is perhaps not necessarily dire. But taken as whole, it is a matter that begs to be examined — I feel.
Our children and adults alike, spend hours playing graphic video games in which the sole purpose is bloodletting, maiming, and murdering, in the most violent and gruesome ways. There are many wonderful video games, but the breadth and depth of the “snuff” games is cause to pay attention.
The gladiator-like fighting cultures that have arisen in recent years is something to look at. These are no longer pugilistic contests, or the “staged” violence of pro wrestling, in themselves, both a bit unsettling — these are blood bouts for the sake of blood. In Rome, the rise of gladiators was a sign of the accelerating decline of the Roman Empire. We’re not there yet, but what does this increasing thirst for blood have to tell us?
Another litmus that has always reflected the culture, is the impact of human religious constructs. Too often, the role they play is the manipulation and repression of our freedoms. I have nothing against the numerous religious constructs man has created. For those so drawn, they are a place for the safety and certainty they require.
However, when radical religious minorities begin to attempt to dictate and rule the masses, imposing their constructed values and fundamentalism, especially when they claim it is the “will of god“ — we’ve got to take serious notice.
These are the signs that point to the stripping of freedom, the neglect of responsibility, the repression of individual thought and personal rights — and essentially, the eradication if the essence of personal accountability. Today, with the rise of the repressive extreme fundamentalism that we see around the globe, it is akin to the eve of the dark ages. I don’t think we will descend to those extreme depths, but what does it mean when we have so many who would lead us there — even if unwittingly?
I so want to champion optimism — but I cannot and will not turn a blind eye to the signs I see. None of us had better do so. We all need to become proactive for balance. That is the key — balance. Balance the extremes of this world; ecological, social, moral, financial, and the like.
To be proactive I have started this creative blog, Image & Verse, to begin, in my small way, to penetrate the root sensitivity of our society. I firmly believe the embrace and expression of creativity is the key to elevating our human species.
I write poetry, speaking in sparse focused voice at times, entertaining lofty and beautiful thoughts at others, also embracing our human sensitivity and sensuality, and holding a mirror to reflect what is beautiful, or to reflect what I see as troubling — because I believe poetry has the power to penetrate the human psyche to greater depths than any written form.
Poetry actually has the ability to alter people on a level that strict written word often cannot. If I write an essay, I make you think; maybe even alter your opinion. I write a poem, I have the chance to make you feel something, in your core — that can alter your hardwired being. I believe this.
I think we urgently need to probe to these depths of the human psyche now, to send out these altering sparks, because I think there is trouble brewing, on some fronts, that could have dire consequence for the long-range future of the planet and for humankind.
I also write poetry to celebrate, to lift up my own spirit, to have hope, to embrace possibility, and to protect my precious personal sanity.
So let us dance, sing, embrace the beauty and the miracle of life and this magnificent world in which we live, and seek joy and truth, but let us not be a Nero. Our Rome is beginning to smolder.
Mother Gaia, you embrace us, you protect us, you carry us safely as we hurtle thousands of miles every hour, of every day through infinite space. You provide for us our every need, sustain our bodies with your abundance, nurture our spirits with your beauty — with your endless wonders.
seeds push seeking sun
sky is pulling with spring rain
gaia yields new life
Your need is simple, that we live in balance with your rhythms, with our fellow travelers on this amazing journey. That we know gratitude, as humble stewards of your countless gifts. We’ve lost our way.
we seek dominion
frail balance has been disturbed
gaia is weeping
Precious mother Gaia, forgive us. Grant us time to again find our way, to find our humility, our center — the balance.
Peering over the cliff’s edge
high above the churning fall
of the steel-blue stream
I point
look down my friend
watch that trout
with the svelte grace of a dancer
it slides in then out again
gently flexing in the soft break
of a stream-bed boulder’s shade
look there
I call attention
across the stone canyon
cut by this persistence of current
an Osprey lights a branch
a focused sentinel
measuring the timing and tactic
of his imagined next meal
let us go to the water
down the steep granite face
through the white aspen and Douglas fir
giant chinquapin and Oregon madrone
I descend at steady pace
bent-knee’d and cautious
I throttle and steer
with boot tread and trek staff
followed by a fine-dust slide
of chattering limestone pebble
and dry needle
clattering the rip rap
down to the stream-side grass patch
then alertly hop
rock to rock
‘cross the tumble
of crystal chill current
to where I’ll make camp
in this wilderness canyon
midst the quiet rush
of the Clackamas waters
and the hushed murmur
of tall Ponderosa bough
I settle
OK Gary
you’ve tagged along
all afternoon my friend
pestering my thoughts
with the urge of verse
so here is the perfect spot
to stop
to rest and meditate
mesmerized by this eden
taking seat on a downed Douglas
I inhale deeply
nature’s wonderful wild bouquet
exhaling the stress of the day
my soul feels a presence
still with me
the presence of a kindred spirit
quieting my core
I build a small fire
task done
I close my eyes
and peacefully wait
enjoying the crackle of logs
and the voice of the stream
Like drizzled honey
the sun through the treetops
paints my face in golden warmth
my thoughts drift to you
and the tall ships in Beaufort Harbor
their sails aglow
etched in shadows
cast by their riggings
and the masts of adjacent ships
you commented how the patterns
reminded you
of abstract charcoal sketches
the artist in you
always interpreting your world
sunshine made radiant your gentle face
your emerald eyes fired to a sparkle
squinting in the rays
your smile
brighter than the sun that day
I stared captivated
watching your eyes dance
among the docks and ships
that unfolded like a still life before us
watching your coral lips
sculpt your words
wishing the moment
would last forever
not knowing
how soon it would not
could not
did not
this morning
my memories
amble sweetly
back through time
I find solace
in this cuddled sunlight
knowing it warms you
as you rest
peacefully
in the sun-drenched meadow
where last I closed
your beautiful emerald eyes
The bones of my wonder
of my stumbled tumbled dreams
are spilled from my soul box
in which I’ve collected
the scarred and damaged pieces
of my broken hopes
wonders trapped within
a box within more boxes
hope so deeply buried
helplessly interred
but — must not abandon wonder
must not abandon love
love is sealed within
the boxes of my wonder
locked inside my heart
lost in the rubble
of years of broken promise
yet — I will find it again
~ Lesley Duncan is the woman who wrote this beautiful song above. I personally hear it, not about romantic love, but humankind’s higher love for each other — the love that will foster and insure peace and understanding on the planet… wouldn’t that be truly amazing. It has never happened before globally. What a worthwhile miracle to pursue. Here below, Nick Lowe asks a simple but profound question, one that needs be asked. ~
“W hat do you mean”, Gwen implores, the strain obvious in her weary voice, “who has taken Derek — and why?” The thought overwhelms her. She feels the grip of exhausting panic.
Turning from Zack, she walks to the moonlit window, listening to the waves crash far below. Deflated, she stares resigned. Pinprick flickers sparkle the night sky. “What does it matter? That the stars we see are already dead is a given. I pray not so for Derek.”
Trying to understand the events that brought her to this place in time, her head is spinning. She feels fatigue deep in her bones.
“Too many mysteries to unravel right now,” mumbling to herself, “better in the morning.” Her left arm drops, right hand squeezes the mysterious note that has triggered her distress. She stumbles across the room, collapses on her bed, and begins to quietly cry.
an old man with a flower — sits on a bench
marveling at the petals — feeling drained
the dream faded of a would-be spaceman
mysteries of the universe — unexplained
his body bent by the weight of worry
he reflects in the stars — feels pained
wondering if everything he let get lost
was really worth what it was he gained
