Dreams

dreams of demons in the darkness of December,

 when in the light, only ordinary people,

but in the darkness,

the reality true,

demons exist in the darkness of my dreams.

 

Sacred

sacred,

time or place,

sometimes both,

but rarely at the same time,

the birth of a savior, 

a sacred time,

a river where spirits felt,

and heard,

a sacred place,

so privileged to live among the sacred,

if only in moments,

or in dusty outposts along my journey.

 

the onset of Depression

 

the intensity of emotion,

seeing a child smile,

or an old man, stumbling along with his cane,

joy and pain,

the height and depth of feeling,

day after day,

until one day,

nothing,

no emotion at all,

unmoved,

by the happiest or saddest of news,

the soul seemingly a void,

empty,

aching to feel,

the brain tired,

thoughts unfinished,

a pile of clutter in the corner,

eyes too exhausted to see,

ears fatigued, no longer can hear,

a silent, dark, empty being,

God save me. . . . .

 

December Memories

December memories,

cold and wet,

along the river,

and oh so tired,

now,

no longer wet,

or cold,

only tired,

and old,

waiting for the storms to end.

 

Living in the USA

Rail workers told what they need,

jobs lost, 

counted as created,

a lie,

a big and bold lie,

laws ignored,

or broken everyday,

willfully by the lawmakers,

judges now only politicians in robes,

too gutless to demand the laws be obeyed,

elections corrupted by both money,

and time,

easier to control by the political elite,

Pelosi and McConnell,

the same corrupt sinners,

if the layers peeled back,

neither giving a damn about America,

only power and their vision of the good,

such a dark time,

as Biden tries to export America to the world,

God I hope he fails,

living in the USA.