Dark Cave Haikus

Hatred without cause
Is not protected under
The Constitution


There is no such thing
As passive hate. Apathy
Has no cause to act.


Love cannot exist
Where light does not reach in us
Rescued from the cave


Hope can be rescued
From deep inside this dark well
Love is the strong rope


Where a life is found
Brave beats furious to save
Scraps of decency


Rains may flood and drown
But humans will still reach through
The dark clouds for sun


Swim through this mountain
Dive deep for love, buoy life
Brave this river, Boy


Wipe my tears and cuts.
Dry my hands and feet. Set firm
Life upon this rock.


I wait in the dark
For splashes from brave heroes
I will not despair


Can I be found deep?
I will wait for news and sleep.
Hope is what I keep.


Deep earth womb of rock
Traumatic birth of thirteen
Life will rise through pain

Advertisements

Summer on 20 acres.

Hooks and hay
Legs, arms, hair, feet
Pulleys and rope
Dangle like hope
From these loft floor cracks and old barn rafters
High on sunshine, shade and sugar
Wading through
Summertime sweetness
Ripples
Sparkles
Soft difference between water and air
Swaying, yellow grass grazing the crisscrosses on my overalled back
I won’t touch this ground again with my pink toes
Only with my mind

This is Evil

peacepeAce
does not feaR men or guns.

time will have its perFect results of heaven.
our God will not abIde craven idolatry:
murderous sacrifice oF our innocent children,
worship of weapons insTead of His power on high,
grEed,
thEft,
a complete abadonmeNt of morals or wisdom.
keep your thoughtS and prayers alive

with actionS of this body
stalk and storm Halls of justice
with your powerful autOmatic voices of reason
attack vaUlts of law
where this Love of guns
is stored and protecteD by evil money and favor

oust and roust, Bust virtue out
kill the silencE of idling hands

demand safer lives wIth cautious liberty.
turn over the tables of destiny by eLecting those who should die for you
rather than kiLl in your names.
in thE name
of God,
peAce
should never be down the dark barreL of a privately-purchased democracy.


AR-FIFTEENS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL.

This is an acrostic poem, aligned in the center.
The center column has an equal number of letters on either side in each line.
The power in this country rests in the hands of those with guns and money.
It should rest on the peaceful people.


If you need a gun to protect what you have?
You don’t have what you need.


AR-15s should not be made legally available to murder 15 yos.


Every gun ever made was forged to kill a being.
Every gun ever made has or will kill a living thing. Or multiple living things.
Guns were made for no other purpose.
Only man could make killing so easy.
Karma will call and collect her damages.

Rambling Mutters or Bad Poetry

Brains on the wall
Heart on the floor
Sputters in a stall
Grace out the door

Nerves on a knife
Feelings on a wire
At large in life
Fingers on fire

Stumbling through
Poisoned issue
Crumbling view
Rotting tissue

Leaving trees
Melting ice
War in the streets
Political heist

Death and destruction
Bitter blood boiling
Constant insurrection
Clockwork uncoiling

The world is hard
Change is real
Everyone is scarred
If there’s something to heal

The world seems dark
Impossible in scope
But it only takes a spark
To light a forest of hope


I’m not depressed! Don’t worry! lol Sometimes, I just like words together that were never together before. 🙂 Sometimes, that’s all it is.

When We

When they hate
We shall love

When they argue
We shall listen

When they act
We shall pray (and protest)

When they injure
We shall heal the whole world

When they kill
We shall inherit heaven

“When they go low,
We go high.”


They may torture my body, break my bones, even kill me.
Then they will have my dead body, but not my obedience.–Mahatma Gandhi

unlovable

from 2014. i’m better now. almost.


so, okay. i have this terrible condition that rears its ugly head every so often. i start to feel bad. mentally, internally. then it sort of morphs into something worse. a terrifying feeling of not being loved. then i set about to let everyone in my tiny family know about it. i moan and shout from the next room, “No one loves me!” then my family rushes in and kisses me and reassures me. “We love you!” it’s a fun, silly game, but one that i need sometimes because while i make a joke, i still need that comfort and love to bolster my fragile mentality.

well last night, i finally realized, what i really feel is, “I’m unlovable.” i begin to feel as if no one in the world could possibly love me. that i’m too fat, ugly, annoying and selfish for anyone to love. so i said, from my bedroom last nite, “I’m unlovable!” then my family rushed in, Lilli who is so smart, “I love you! And God loves you!” I said, “No, you don’t. You can’t possibly.” and she made some silly joke to make me laugh about how i was being impossible. and then Guy rushed in, hugging me and kissing me, singing Voice of Truth.

…and the voice of truth tells me a different story,
and the voice of truth says do not be afraid…

which is his subtle-not subtle way of saying, “Shut up! Stop lying to yourself.”

and that’s what i am doing. i’m lying to myself. i’m listening to that tiny, crazy voice that tells me:
i’m worthless.
i’m scared.
i’m not loved.
and that’s not the voice of truth, that’s not the voice of God. that’s the voice of the enemy–my own thoughts OR the twisted up world OR the devil.

i am lovable. i am loved. if for no other reason than God loves me. i am thankful for my family. for my husband, who is the voice of reason. for scooping me up and sparing me from my own terrible thoughts, for giving me undivided attention even when i’m pretty obvious about it. i love you, Guy. thanks for the reminder.

yes, we can.

no one has to do it all
we can share the work
you don’t have to walk so tall
especially when it hurts

submit to being led
when everything comes to a crawl
let me be your feather bed
when you need a place to fall

it’s not possible to always be strong
one day you’ll skip and stumble
feeling weak is not wrong
just don’t forget to be humble

no one’s ever flawless
everyone makes mistakes
somewhere deep in this solace
is the place our heart awakes

give grace and be open to receive
simple premise that promises perfection
dare hope and we shall believe
let this be our invocation