Thursday, October 27, 2016

personal

if you vote you say you count
if you dont you say you wont
aint nobodys business but your own

Sunday, May 29, 2016

Concerning politics

This is not, nor was it ever intended to be, a blog about political issues. The main focus here will always generally remain art (more specifically, poetry) but I have another thing to add to my last post. If my television is on and anything relating to Donald Trump comes on, I immediately change the channel. When you think about it, the people who run these stations are concerned with ratings. If Mr. Trump makes them go up, then they will play more of him. Therefore I suggest you do as I do and do not make it good business for them to give him so much air time. I already know what I will do in the coming elections and nothing he will say will change that, so there is no further need for me to listen to him. Join the Boycott!

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

A thought on politics

Honestly, I don't care what either the Kardashians or Donald Trump have to say. I didn't care in the past and there is nothing inherent in them that could make me care in the future. When the next opportunity to vote comes I'm going to vote democratic if I have to vote for the donkey. The mindless machinations of the Republican Party are too manipulative and seemingly nefarious to interest me any further. If I have, by personally so doing, taken the air out from under Mr. T then he may float back to the earth like the sordid and empty piece of paper he is.

Friday, January 15, 2016

why

every year misplaces dreams
sand that shifts
in the tireless wind of time

but it is the province
of winter mornings
to smell fresh

spring seems to answer
anticipation that crawled
out of a warm winter bed

still if infinite variety stales
so do rumpled summer days
in their comfortable litany

then it changes
on that first crisp
autumn morning

pages on the calendar
coming to an end
whisper regrets

soon the year is empty
an abandoned cave
cold empty fire pits

then we look back
and see
what might have been

thus bleak winter mornings
awaken from
troubled sleep

and call to us
in their crisp promise
to do better