Month: August 2007

The Night of the Shooting Star

In this mid August night Enrobed in wool Wholly surrendered to gravity against the earth I watch in the dark sky Shooting stars coming alive Each meteor begging for attention One I follow from birth to extinction Says to me: “I am but a speck of light in the vast expanse of your vision. Why do you pay attention to me?” I cling to the uniqueness of my star As others display equal if not superior spectacle To the underdog of pyrotechnics And I make a wish that You, the unlucky winner of fewer summers in the lottery of life You, who take an uneasy step every day on a fallen staircase You, beautiful one, robbed of your youth be my star. Let me try to pass you The olympic torch and hope that one day you will run and illuminate the sky. Until then I replay the memory of The night of the shooting stars in mid August. Advertisements

Thoughts on the Anniversary of Hiroshima

note: I read this at an open mic and it started a controversy about the justification of the bombing on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. So I failed to raise our consciousness to the level of what it means to be human and at either end of weapons. My personal opinion is that all weapon manufacturing, small and large, should be stopped and made illegal by all countries. Take that for a controversy. I’m sure many men will scoff at the idea, as they usually do, since they’ve been brainwashed from birth that one should have more weapons than the neighbors in case they used theirs. What happened to talking about our differences? What happened to trying to understand events under a different light? Peace,Guy Thoughts on the Anniversary of Hiroshima On August 6, 1945, this child’s sixth birthdayNever happened, erased from all memoryRecords pulverized by a gigantic mushroomThe fungus on humanity’s footAs it continues trampling onPrinciples, teachings, evolutionAs it continues spreading the seedsOf hatred under engineered flowersSo pretty, so noble, so smart. Sixty years later it …

What Will We Do About It?

They say we replay forever in our mindsThe rules learned in the first six years of our livesThe mother of all mantras, like a broken recordImages of your first fearsSeen through your first tearsAdults standing byDeciding whether you will love or hateBe selfish or generousWithdrawn or outgoingA poet or a politicianObserving chaos or causing itAn innocent bystander or a perpetrator. Now we sit on the edge of chaosAnd the voices say, “do nothing, you cannot do anything about chaos, you don’t know how to deal with chaos.”Do we stand up, or submit? Crafty discourse rides on the mother of all mantras, expecting complacency and extinguishing all growth of conscience, as if we were six years old. This could be our collective ageA society unable to learnStuck in its fears and instinctsWhat will we do about it?