Never Was

One Strike For A Dollar

A Heart With Offered Sledge
Truth is sought, by merely putting pen to paper, but
all we hear are a pathetic masquerade of lies —

I’d offer a mallet, sledge
Might you heft, aim
For a functional heart
Bleeding out in your theater.

Before your guests? The chosen
Who might like a crack,
Whack at the essence of
A poet eternally in Spring?

Bones of metal do not
Cage a heat of glowing glass.
When uprighted, can be, but
Not for one acting enemy.

No cabal do I pass through,
But offer for a dollar these words,
To deft strike with might —
Might it — make you feel a’right.

I trust my heart, it’s cage,
But so few people where words blaze.
While locked in this hazy-gaze,
Behold all of me blacksmith-black…

Engaged, enraged, also housed in cage.

It is a fire you did not start,
Nor can it be doused, but enflamed.
If all you have is misapplied kerosene,
I leave you my unguarded core.


11.13.25

I’ll be around
But things that could break you could protect.
Edit later…

You can mock me with a dollar or 29.
But seriously, it’s just currency, just as US devalues it’s own mint…
Built on the backs of what now?
Where’s your ingenuity?
Arrogant indifference…uh-huh. Temper/response/fail
I pity the haters profiled because they hate themselves and can’t wait to teach others the feeling.
No pity for unchangeable sociopaths, operating out of a narcissist’s handbook, acting like a utopian, dystopia in caste.

Here’s my whack-a-mole heart
What? Go nuclear? Doesn’t that mean…?
Oh, sorry. Did you need to get at that dollar? Who really lacks dignity is the one redacting what I say to inspire, but not putting everything on the table as a guarded coward.

I write feelings that inspire logic you warp. You, the monster maker. Me, your 626? No. It’s all in your head. Who hurt you so bad that you angle for the kid holding the bottom rung? You get boot stomped by that kid?? And when you can’t win? Who pays for that?? Would you, have you??? Abused yourself…loves????

Give yourself a tug. My penance belongs to another master.

Lord, prepare me…

Citizen Journalist “for the people.”

I will fight but prefer love, hugs that apply. If it takes an emoticon and not words, spare pixels. Bring it in.

Apathy + cowardice = compliance

For outside observers…
Pray for people who abuse privilege and power that are in pain. Worry about the ones who enjoy it.