Tag: poetry

family tradition

the whip still in his meaty hand,

he bellowed at his son,

“my pa whipped me when i was bad–

it never hurt me none!”

and so, in time, the boy grew up

to make the same admission–

what started out as child abuse

was now family tradition.

***

you either

face your demons

or they

raise your children

–unknown

glimpses

we are born into a trap:

we must rent or buy a space

for ourselves in this world,

so we work… often for others.

we are indoctrinated as children

into silly beliefs and ideologies.

it looks like we have no choice;

we must submit to the machine.

however, there are those rare

moments of lucidity when we

catch glimpses of something

better, deeper, more soulful.

we read books and poetry,

watch movies, go to church–

always on the hunt for more

of those uplifting glimpses.

we are obsessed with it.

we hope that someday those

visions will come together

in a meaningful way,

like some cosmic puzzle,

and we will finally know that

which we have only glimpsed.

–photo by me

rusty puddles

rain comes down upon the range,

and something strange befuddles

all the people passing through:

the sight of rusty puddles.

in all those pools of opaque orange,

an iron oxide’s found–

it seeps into the water here

up from the rusty ground.

and yes, year after year, that rust

into our world seeps;

perhaps someday we’ll rust away–

i’ve heard it never sleeps.

–photo by me