MayPoWriMo 24

Bob Dylan is 80 he’s barely begun 
To turn old the way some folks turn young
He’s out on the road and it’s never ending
He turns the key which way the lockdown’s bending

I listened to his music twenty years ago it’s true
All the so called classics and all the deep cuts too
He sang about losses he sang about regret
He knows in his heart that true love tends to forget

He’s a song and dance man he don’t look back
He’s goin’ to Acapulco from the basement tracks
Though the time keeps changing and shall be released
I wonder if the river flows into a masterpiece

Bob Dylan is 80 he knows a hard rain’s gonna fall
Don’t think twice if you gotta go no time to think at all

AugPoWriMo 24

Running out of steam as the summer ends
Burning the candle if it breaks or bends
The sun is too hot to walk on the street
So you stare out of windows on repeat
The flickering flame on the TV set
Has nothing to say you haven’t heard yet
Just sip on your cup and say that it’s fine
It must be their fault since it isn’t mine
They just announced there’s a miracle cure
You give them your blood if they call it pure
Pay no attention as the shots ring out
Vindicating what protests bring about
Say their names while you live say them again
Sadly this season does not have an end

AugPoWriMo 17

It is what it is for what it is worth
Going high is the only thing that works
We have spent the summer talking at screens
With so much at stake tearing at the seams
Some of us know the story we must tell
To bring us all back from the brink of hell
These voices should stir us all to action
Not sit and wait for some other faction
If you’re still on the fence which side you’re on
I greet your indifference with a yawn
Wake up! History has its eyes on you
Even if it can’t tolerate the view
There’s only one shot at course correction
You damn well better vote this election

AugPoWriMo 16

Opened windows for the first time since May
The outside has gotten lost in a way
The sun burns too bright the insects too loud
What was it like being stuck in a crowd
The car is no good as means for release
People still don’t know how to drive at least
Used to be able to blame the weather
Or know when we would receive a letter
Turns out the climate just migrates inside
Your cells don’t even have a place to hide
We’re projecting light onto tiny screens
Our synapses trapped in the in-betweens
Might leave the windows open for a spell
If the heat turns up we must be in hell

AugPoWriMo 15

In my life I never thought I would see
Such desperation in my own country
Mail piling up undeliverable
As if we can’t tell the bear from the bull
Each front page offers a new distraction
Burying the new lead of fascism
Like democracy was some sort of joke
To those who take pride in not being woke
Obsoleting all the machines we need
To select sort sift sign harvest or weed
They say a rising tide lifts all the boats
That crash into shore not counting our votes
What remedy will help us to bash this
Simple enough: this machine kills fascists

AugPoWriMo 14

To have spent so long in this quarantine
That it seems normal you know what I mean
When ordinary summer things occur
You forget how much of life is a blur
It makes the ice cream taste even more sweet
In a childhood home on a childhood street
And all the parks with kids dangling on swings
Filled with promise of what tomorrow brings
It seems odd to feel quite this elated
When so much of the world is frustrated
Be in the world but don’t make it your home
Your spirit in body is free to roam
Past circumstance toward liberation
Feelings preceding imagination

AugPoWriMo 13

Went three days without a cat on my lap
How easy it is for them to distract
Put your finger in my eyeball now please
Says the fluff sitting just above my knees
They purr on the bed they purr on my leg
The last thing they’ll do is borrow or beg
Demanding some treats demanding some nip
Haven’t had them since you went on your trip
Now they’re so happy but playing it cool
They’re not like those dogs that sometimes will drool
It’s bath time now see how they lick their paws
They’ll show that cardboard who’s got all the claws
These cats are everything you want to be
Sometimes they even watch birds on TV

AugPoWriMo 12

Quiet hours begin when bugs are loud
There’s no quiet even when it is found
Just a sense of dread that things aren’t so good
As they were when they were misunderstood
I’m talking in my sleep dreams are so real
They feel what anybody wants to feel
Euphoric excited or even numb
Things that are gone haven’t even begun
One hundred fifty days in quarantine
Don’t even know what any of it means
I’m hiding my face I’m wearing my mask
The last shall be first the first shall be last
We climbed the mountain we’re on the way down
It’s quiet hours now there’s no one around