Do It Now

Don’t wait.

There’ll never be a better time.

Do it now.

Scratch it off your bucket list,

Kiss that one you should have kissed,

Whate’er the fates allow,

Do it now.

 

Take a chance

When the wheel comes spinning round to

Find romance.

There’s a one for everyone so

Set your sights beyond the sun,

Never leave the race unrun.

Do it now.

 

It’s okay.

There’s no need to put it off

Another day.

There’s no time for mincing words, 

Wasting time would be absurd.

You can argue afterward,

Just do it now.

 

Life Goes On

Heralds blast harsh bugle’s bray,

The harbinger of sad report,

And time is scattered in the breath

Of outcomes unacceptable.

 

Left alone to sink or swim in

Torrents of survivor’s guilt,

The numbness settles over

Until joy is imperceptible.

 

And fairness is a kudzu vine

That strangles everything in reach

Til madness becomes logic’s bane

And sadness transcends common sense.

 

But sadness is a masquerade

That trades reality for peace

And suffers guilt for pity’s sake

Without the joy of recompense.

 

And I and you and he and she

And we will all be better served

To overflow by letting go

And find the peace we so deserve.

 

What’s done is done.

What’s gone is gone.

For those remaining…

Life goes on.

 

Night Shadows and Nightmares

Night shadows fall as

The sun sings his curtain-call

Eerily stalking in stark apparition.

Should be a time for peaceful reflection,

Soothing and still at the end of the day.

 

Soon eyes must close

As sleep is a requisite.

A full day tomorrow… must be refreshed.

Cannot be slave to inane inconveniences.

Won’t let clear nuisances get in the way.

 

But demons have other ideas and intentions.

They skulk in the background ready to pounce

At the first sign of slumber

Dredging up images,

Horrors, unthinkable, pulled from the past.

 

So long ago in a faraway place

Nightmares that time can never erase.  

One moment there, bright smiling face, then

Gone in an instant without a trace.

 

Oh, God, how long must this wicked night last?

 

Pride

Pride is a peacock strutting his plumage,

Climbing the ego escalator,

Bubble-wrapped in vanity and

Void of all humility,

Vainglory arrogance taken to the nth degree.

 

Snobbery trumps self-esteem and

Dignity yields to vain conceit,

And honor becomes a stranger

Begging quarters for a bite to eat.

 

But then…

Nothing’s wrong with hubris tempered

With a skosh of self-respect,

An ornamented mystery

Where truth and logic intersect.

 

Pride in appearance,

Pride in community,

Pride in the nation that we serve.

Pride in our yearning for liberty

Gives us the freedom we deserve.

 

Fragments of Hope

Even in the worst of times

When faith dwells near abandonment,

And trust appears a unicorn

Impossible to hold,

These tiny fragments still remain

And lift their voices in refrain

To sing that we are foreordained

To softly tread on streets of gold.

 

We know not our destiny,

Dare not rely on prophecy

To foretell outcome in our “wannabee”.

But if these fragments are employed

Their roots can flower into joy

And lift us from the dregs of drudgery.

 

Let all rejoice to realize

That optimism never dies,

But gently waits in patient afterglow.

Its colorful kaleidoscope

Exists in fragments filled with hope

And that is all we really need to know.

 

Age is Just a Number

Father Time is masterful at

Changing plots and storylines,

And all bear witness as

The transformations are discerned.

As season shifts to season

Etched in incremental stages,

Mortality becomes

An unavoidable concern.

 

But age is just a number

And old is but a state of mind.

And I’ll be here (until I’m not),

So, set the feast and pour the wine.

 

Like Mister Frost whose lifelong task

Was oft misunderstood,

But found the road to longevity

In a lonely yellow wood.

 

Or Glenn, the younger, circumnavigating

Time and space

To Glenn, the elder, after

Seven decades and still in the chase.

 

So, let the aging process roll

Unchecked and unforgiving,

And I’ll be here (until I’m not)

To make the most of living.

 

The Future is Now

“Oh, I’ll get around to it someday,”

The procrastinator chimes.

“Right now, this, tomorrow, that.

It’s only a matter of time.”

 

But time doesn’t stay,

It keeps running away,

And tomorrow may never arrive.

We cannot foresee and there’s no guarantee

We’ll be lucky enough to survive.

 

The young man may look to the future,

And the young woman sketches her schemes.

But chance and delay comes to get in the way

Causing chaos to shatter their dreams.

 

Rosanna retired with a whimpering whine

After decades of struggle and sweat,

But the greatest desires

Of her youth have expired

And now she looks back with regret.

 

Tomorrow’s dark phantom

Looks back with a scowl

To humbly remind us…

The future is now.

 

Watch the Horizon

Life, they say, is much smarter

When we live in the present and

Learn from the past.

But this ship moves incessantly forward

With no clue to how long

The voyage may last.

 

So, we watch the horizon

For sails and for shore,

Watch the sky for the birds on the wing,

Bless the bounty below and

Thank God up above

For the hope opportunity brings.

 

But perilous waters on tossed stormy seas

Give pause and are cause for alarm,

So, the vigil we keep

As we traverse the deep

Is the passport to keep us from harm.

 

Hence, we live in the moment

Enjoying the warm,

But we watch the horizon

To weather the storm.

 

 

At the End of the Day

Morning awakens a jumbled agenda of

Caffeine-fueled fluster and clamoring clashes,

Maddening mashes and time-crunching dashes

Sprinkled with flashes of

Echoed backlashes.

 

Onward and upward the dreaded commute,

The bottlenecked bobblehead manic pursuit.

Every halt or delay, every pothole in route

Sending blood pressure soaring in hosts of hot flashes.

 

The workaday fever a muster of frenzy

Raving and ravaging every last nerve,

Draining the tank til there’s no more reserve,

And giving much more than those bastards deserve.

 

But…

At the end of the day

It all goes away.

All the worries and flurries

Removed from the fray,

And a soft prayer of thanks

To the One up above

For the privilege to live

In the land that I love.

 

Tattoos

I’m not a grand fan of tattoos.

My tastes are a bit more subdued,

But if you like pain

And have little to gain

I suppose there is nothing to lose.

 

A young man from Kalamazoo

Demanded a tiger tattoo.

The feline attacked,

Made the young man his snack

Then the tiger went back to the zoo.

 

A father thought tatts were taboo,

A garishly bold bugaboo.

The daughter cried, “Bull!”

Then inked on a skull.

It was a fine how-do-you-do.

 

A drunken tattoo scribed in haste

Was considered a dreadful mistake.

Says the artist in question,

“May I make a suggestion. It’s

A matter of personal taste.”

 

Priorities

What to do and when to do it,

Help me, Lord, find my way through it.

Just keeps getting tougher all the time.

As many needy palms beseech

As pebbles strewn upon the beach,

As muddled as a syncopated mime.

 

Need an organized triage

To treat this maddening barrage

Insuring most important tasks get done.

Caffeine may help clear the brain

To deal with lessers that remain

And maybe leave a little time for fun.

 

If we can swift prioritize

Events that come into our lives

With all the logic each must quantify,

Then as we opt which way to go

We seek the wisdom of Thoreau

And log his sage advice… simplify.

 

Tangled, tossed priorities

Buzzing like the busy bees,

An easy one word summary…

Simplify.

 

Learn from Yesterday

“Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.”

                                    George Santayana

 

We clearly keep making the same mistakes.

You’d think we’d learn our lesson.

Could it be we’re not paying attention, or

Is it some kind of mem’ry regression.

 

It could simply be habit, or

Maybe we’re lazy.

Perhaps we should blame the occult.

We just do the same thing again and again

Expecting a different result.

 

You might think with all of our rational thinking

We’d learn to look back on the past

And learn from the errors of yesterday

And the caution their warnings forecast.

 

Painted on a larger canvas,

Juxtaposed and brought to scale,

The errors of the past deliver

Advice for these perplexing travails.

 

Nations turn and history records

The gruesome résumé, and

Hopes become fantasy if we fail to

Learn from yesterday.

 

Believe in Tomorrow

The gilded game of life is finite;

All too soon it comes to end,

And the promise on tomorrow

Holds no faithful guarantee.

But this affords no reason for

Forsaking fondest dreams. There are

Far too many wondrous episodes

The mind cannot foresee.

 

Fortune pales without tomorrow’s pledge of

Life, in all its finery,

That promenades the passageways

Of fondly fashioned destiny.

 

And brave imagination grows its promise

Of a hope-filled fate

Where splendid fruitful gardens of desire

Patiently await.

 

Disquiet for the future

Is adept at stealing joy away,

But believing in tomorrow is no reason

To forsake today.

 

So, here’s a plan: to make a plan,

To plead, pilfer or borrow,

To face the trials of today

Believing in tomorrow.

 

The Color of My Skin

Please, I ask, don’t hate me for the color of my skin.

This superficial coating isn’t really all I am.

I promise I will judge you not;

Might even call you friend

In an all-inclusive parallelogram.

 

It’s not my fault that I was born to

Parents who are white;

A matter over which I’ve no control.

And though I cannot understand

Your struggle or your plight,

Perhaps we’ll find some commonality inside our souls.

 

Traditions demand loyalty to generations past

To perpetuate the evil as well as the sublime,

Making changing attitudes a glacierous affair,

Another Everest implausible to climb.

 

We wait, we pray the world will grant us favor

That transgressions of the past may be absolved.

We reach a hopeful hand across the table

And the interaction softens our resolve.

 

I won’t apologize or ask forgiveness

For the prior generations of my kin.

I only want to meet you looking forward,

So, I ask you, please,

Don’t hate me for the color of my skin.

 

Respect

Yes, sir. No, Ma’am. Excuse me. Thank you. Please.

Only words.

Only words?

All a sign of a disappearing breed.

Too seldom heard.

Seldom heard.

 

Take your hats off. That’s the colors passing by.

Silence, please.

Silence, please.

Millions fought and many died so she can proudly fly

In the breeze,

The gentle breeze.

 

Keep safe distances else we intrude a neighbor’s space.

“Off my case.”

“Out of my face.”

Find the proper interval for comfort’s interface.

Show some grace.

Own your place.

 

Worth is but a drifting ship and

Values vague and circumspect,

But we are lost without a sail

When we lose respect,

When we lose respect.

 

My Enemy, Myself

Are you my enemy 

Or are you friend?

Where will we be

At the end of the day?

Our pathways are certain to

Cross many times

In the struggle and scuffle

Of life’s great mêlée.

 

We face across battle lines

Stranger to stranger

In xenophobic eccentricity

Foregoing the foreboding that

Logic commands, or anything

That might escort tranquility.

 

Reason suggests that

Accord is in order.

Garner fresh compromise

Down from the shelf.

I search in the mirror

To find your reflection.

Epiphany unveils

My enemy.

Myself.

 

Out of the Sky

Shock and awe rain out of the sky

 -A perpetual juddering whirligig –

Sending even the strongest, shuddering,

Seeking shelter from the crippling storm.

 

The constantly pounding juggernaut

Creating bedlam and confusion til

Nowhere in this endless night is there

A place that’s safe from harm.

 

I pause and ponder what unforgivable

Evil deed I must have done to

Summon this Hell from the firmament

To overwhelm and paralyze.

 

Surely, there is justice somewhere,

Some great karma round the bend

With shielding power to sustain us

So we might survive.

 

This is madness,

Vile nightmare,

This undue cacophony

That seems incessant in its measure.

Must it be the end of me?

 

War Changes Everything

Don’t know why we all can’t simply get along

As a people, as a nation, as a realm.

Clearly, there are differences

Between what’s right and wrong.

No need to let discussion overwhelm.

But war changes everything.

 

We are children on a playground

Running, laughing, wild and free

Until some pretentious bully comes along

Demanding tribute’s lame intimidation,

Stirring trouble. Insisting that we pirouette

To his self-serving song.

Yes, war changes everything.

 

Patience stretches just so far

Til common sense prevails.

Only one thing to be done

To pass these dire travails.

Must stand tall, must forestall this

Brutish cold incursion.

Force to force is all the tyrant

Understands in his perversion.

 

But even when we win, we fail

In losses beyond measure.

Young men die and loved ones weep

Protecting the ideas they treasure…

Because war changes everything.

 

 

Walking the Perimeter

It might just be the loneliest job

Necessity ever created,

A mindless abandonment of willful thought

Meant only to keep the wolf subjugated.

 

Walking in lockstep with himself,

Weapon at ready to challenge on sight,

Waiting, watching, now watching some more

For shape-shifting phantoms stalking the night.

 

Desperately striving to stave off the beast of sleep.

Eyes open, must stay alert.

Gazing out into the wide swathe of nothing

Til memory forestalls and senses pervert.

 

How much longer? How many more steps

Til this ceaseless night comes to conclusion?

Up again, down again, making the rounds again

Til the night is a mask of illusion.

 

It’s a thankless task,

But someone must do it.

Millions have managed before

To get through it.

He walks the perimeter, keeping his keep

While armies of millions are sound asleep.

 

Pray for Peace

Young ones marching off to war

Into some hellish hinterland.

Pray for peace.

 

Raucous rumblings charge the night to

Spread across the no-man’s land.

Pray for peace.

 

Dauntless dangers stalk the strand

Threatening the Motherland

As we rise to take our stand and

Pray for peace.

 

Makes no difference if you don’t

Believe there is a promised land.

Pray for peace.

 

No one will think ill of you or

Bring you under reprimand.

Pray for peace.

 

Whether sage of firebrand,

Atheist or pious man,

Grace bestows the upper hand.

Pray, pray for peace.

 

Don’t Blame the Soldier

Yes, it’s true. We lost this one.

It did not turn out well.

In spite of our might and the fact we were right

The whole thing went straight to hell.

But don’t blame the soldier.

 

The soldiers and sailors and brash leathernecks,

The airmen and others untold,

The boldest and bravest our nation could muster

Could not change what was to unfold.

So, don’t blame the soldier.

 

Unrest on the campuses, rioting streets

Every night on the six o’clock news.

Deceit and dissent a convenient excuse for

Ill-twisted political views.

No. don’t blame the soldier.

 

Let this be the lesson, and never forget

If we dare task this nation to fight.

If the goal is to win, we must go all in

And our purpose be noble and right.

And the soldier will follow,

The soldier will serve without question.

On that we depend.

He’ll fight for his country

And the one who’s beside him

Right through to the cold bitter end.

So, please. Don’t blame the soldier.

 

I Died (A Little) Today: The Letter Home

Dear Mom,

Sorry that I haven’t written to you for a spell.

Things have been a little nuts around this crazy place.

Sarge has had us pulling extra duty for a while

What with Charlie lurking all around the base.

 

Rough day today. We were out there on patrol

When our unit quickly came under attack.

The fighting was so violent for a while

I wasn’t even sure we’d make it back.

 

Truth is… not all of us returned.

You remember my best friend, Billy Ray?

I mentioned him to you in previous letters. 

Well… they’re shipping his remains back home today.

It all seemed to happen in an instant,

We were talking what we’d do when we get home.

Billy Ray had just told me some old dumb joke

When the shots rang out. I turned and he was gone.

Don’t know if I can go back out tomorrow.

I just want this stupid war to go away.

The truth is, I think I’ll get past the sorrow,

But a little piece inside me died today.

 

Don’t worry, Mom. I’m gonna be alright.

Before you know it, my tour will be done.

Gotta go for now. The Sarge is calling.

We’ll be together soon.

Love,

Your son

 

p.s. Tell Dad I love him.

 

For Family

“Were you in the war, Grandpa?” Tommy queried.

“Yes, I was, son,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Mommy says war is bad, she says it’s evil.”

“Yes, son, it is. It’s a horrible task.”

 

“Does that mean you’re bad, Grandpa? Why did you go?”

“It’s hard to explain,” he said, “But let me try”

Hard to defend why the young and the innocent

Rush to a cause where so many might die.

 

“Nobody wants war,” he says with a sigh, “but

Sometimes you just have no choice.

When enemies threaten the ones you love

Someone must stand to give them a voice.

We have to protect. We need to defend

Against those who would take our freedom away.

You’re young and it’s a mystery right now,

But you’ll grow and you’ll understand someday.”

 

He paused for a moment, then softly he spoke.

“I’ll tell you one thing for sure that is true.

You want to know why I fought in the war?

I did it for family.

I did it for you.”

 

A Grateful Nation

A grateful nation welcomes home her heroes

When the fight is done,

Reaching deep to heal the wounds of war

So they might carry on.

 

A grateful nation mourns the loss of

Those who paid the final price,

Comforts those they left behind

In honor of their sacrifice.

 

A grateful nation knows that freedom

Must be bought by blood and sweat.

Forging on with confidence,

No second guessing, no regrets.

 

A grateful nation prays, although the gift

Is oft misunderstood.

A psalm of praise to one on high

Whose grace provides all that is good.

 

A grateful nation will not falter,

Will not waiver on its course,

Seeks to lift the people’s spirit,

Moving on with no remorse.

 

A Grateful Nation

A grateful nation welcomes home her heroes

When the fight is done,

Reaching deep to heal the wounds of war

So they might carry on.

 

A grateful nation mourns the loss of

Those who paid the final price,

Comforts those they left behind

In honor of their sacrifice.

 

A grateful nation knows that freedom

Must be bought by blood and sweat.

Forging on with confidence,

No second guessing, no regrets.

 

A grateful nation prays, although the gift

Is oft misunderstood.

A psalm of praise to one on high

Whose grace provides all that is good.

 

A grateful nation will not falter,

Will not waiver on its course,

Seeks to lift the people’s spirit,

Moving on with no remorse.

 

Basic Soldier

Not for glory, fame or fortune,

Not for gratitude or praise

The basic soldier serves in silence

With a watchful steely gaze.

 

Not a slave to needless causes,

Just a cog on grinding gear that

Keeps the locomotive charging forward

Without doubt or fear.

 

Some may speak of God and country,

Friends and family, hearth and home,

But when the bombs of battle rage

The soldier never stands alone.

 

Brothers bold and sisters stoic,

Banded by a single bond,

Sing the same brave song of freedom

Marching, marching ever on.

 

Hail and greet the basic soldier.

Millions now, millions then,

Millions when their cause is noble.

Shall we see their like again?