I am angry at the Americans
For making the world one big party
And leaving all their spending
Polluting our fields of plenty
I am angry at the Chinese
For building these resorts
For walking down the streets
Disrespecting different cultures
I am angry at Canada
For lying to with a smile
Rolling out the red carpet
Though the green flag flies high
I am angry at the Petrols
For neglecting human health
For letting all these diesel fuels
Spilling into atmosphere
I am angry at the Youth
For not taking hold the change
For not demanding to know better
Though they stand up for pop cult
I am angry at the Voices
Speaking so strongly inside
Obviously in rhythmic lies
I am angry at the Religious
Who say their faithful
Are more right and devout
Who align their one clear path
Though they preach unanimous love
And acceptance for all those left
I am angry at Myself
For not knowing how to stand
Though I see clearly my knees
That rest here in the shade
Tag: voices
Balloons (day 1236)
There’s a knot –
Like lost balloons
Or flipped garbage –
Building.
It’s animosity.
Uncontrollable
With aggressive voices,
Emptyness
Berzerkers.
A team of it
And I’m not
Turning around
To acknowledge it.
Silently Quiet (day 714)
It’s quiet in here
If you’re ignoring the voices
Screaming back at me
Inside my head
I can hear the dull tones
From the black box next to me
Spinning around methodically
While I go about my work
Wind blows through trees
Shimmering with a gentle sway
But that’s outside
Beyond the confines of a window
Entrapped, the house is still
Drooping plants are silently
Calling out to me
For just a splash more of water
My typing makes noises
But that sound dies
When I take moments to think
Jumping deeper inside my head
Paintings hang with memories
Time faded memories
But the image: unwaveringly visible
Clearly pulls on my thoughts
Fruits in the silver bowl
Work hardest at these times
Heat of day and sunlight curing
Hardness and tart green
The refrigerator will kick on
Every now and then
To remind me of lunch to come
Scraps of what is now left over
While I wait here
Looking at my reflection
Silently shining back at me
Curious smeared everywhere
Sharp As A Spoon (day 532)
Outstretched fingers
Lead me closer
To the impending doom
And all I hear
From the voices
Is beware the faceless moon
So darkness covers
All I care for
Leaving me as sharp as a spoon
Voices of the Bird (day 358)
If only I could recognize
The many voices of the bird
The many dialects of our winged little friends
I think had I the power
To communicate with the breeds
I’d learn many things indeed
But this is my destiny
Be it as it may
I shall sit here today
Enjoying how they sing to my soul
The Cure (day 71)
Mending excites me
New life fills me
Voices hear me
Wind warms me
Laughter returns to me
Smiles radiate from me
Hope grabs at me
Fever leaves within me
Love reaches me
Hands touch me
And all of this
Works to cure me