Rants and not Quite Poetry

Sometimes I write things that just turn out to be rants, other times they turn into poems. I think these are simply rants.


[untitled]

when the weapons
become so horrific
that they finally
are destroyed
what will the
evil-doers use
to attack us
planes, box-cutters
everyday chemicals

hatred cannot be
regulated by governments
anger is not calmed
by restrictions
and colored warnings

when the weapons
become our minds
our prejudices
our stubbornness
then our defenses
must become our hearts
our compassion
our openness

ltv


what do I want to say to the World?
nothing really
since the World won't listen
or perhaps can't hear
through the din of hatred
and filters of prejudices
We are all to blame
for turning this planet
against the natural axis
creating an unwelcome spin
on what is valuable
what is pretty
what power really means
there is strength in calm
the immolated Buddhist
silently burning in protest
achieves more than the rowdy mob
burning with anger
damaging their cause
and their surroundings
sometimes cliches are true
you get more flies with honey
anger begets anger
you get back what you put forth
yet we are surprised
to see the blackened air
the murky waters
the mutations of the flesh
the perversions of the mind
so many people being unkind to those they love
and apathetic, at best, to the rest of Humanity

ltv