Five-year old girl riding scooter on a sidewalk

My inklings
of life’s wrinklings
long ago, were teeny tine;
battlefields of reality with bombs, mortars, mines, just mine.

There are points on sidelines and bleachers
when you watch players and teachers,

Yet there is a point to be faced, post-haste,
when neutral options are gone, erased,
a life meaningful on this point must be based
The tough decisions you take and you taste,

you jump in the fray,
not turning away,

and know your mistakes might be doing something,

Not eyes averted, not doing nothing.

At some point on the infinite continuous spectral continuum you find the binary,
the crossroads, the point where you either choose or you further tarry,
Both are decisions upon yours, your shoulders that is,
you can deflect and shrug and say it’s not your thing, none of your biz,

but some things, at the end of the day,
are yours to decide, no matter your disarray thoughts you think and can’t say;
at some point you gotta stand up and get counted
You are you, thinking person of one, don't be discounted,

so know that you might do some things wrong,
and some choices might weaken or make strong,
or haunt you for on and on, in your nightmare dreams aloft on a banshee song,

but choosing your choice is

better, so betterer than letting the choice of your voice proud
be made by someone else for you, stomping out your voice choice with their loud.

So use your heart your ears and your feet
use your mouth and your mind to strongly defeat
And unseat those in violent towers with powers who look down on those who choose flour and flower
over those who prefer click-click booms with dour sourness to make lessers-than cower;

reject those who subjugate and control
those who use their voices to mock and faux-patrol,

inside you, inside that big heart no matter the size of rib cage around,
is a heart that can beat big and strong and surround those around with

the lifting up, the arms of reaching to help with a hand,
not steal or hit or a grab at more land.

Use what you got, your voice, your heart, your feet, your arms to raise high,
Your arms, your actual arms, not the arms that are cheap and perpetuate strife with a lie,

a lie that conflict is solved by the bulgy big and the physically strong,
that loud voices win wars and bullies take battles and big headed bigots on top are not wrong,

so long, goodbye to the villains and the strife-mongers who hate,
who hate what’s different and changed and their resiliency’s constantly absent or late,
they take out their anger with fists and big voices and chest thumping supreme,
tac jackets and ammo galore, bad boy door kicks with weekend warrior action figure team,
spouting selective Bible that turn Gospel ideas into words for a meme,

nah, reject the bully voices and the might of the boots,
those boots in cahoots with the powerful snoots,
in the name of family and God, they say,
we’ll return this country to a glory day, there’s a way, they say,
to return us 70 years back, we just need more silence from them and them, and you, they say,

because they want a country that’s simple and easy, and it seems so right, right?
so right to want simple and easy, to fight for the right to sleep safe in the night
but the prob is…
they look out for their own kids, not hers or his,

and they pine for what seems what was but just wasn’t for those outta their sphere,
and looking out for what’s just in your orbit and those you hold dear
is just fine, until the trouble moves a little more near.

So we try and abide by rules
that lead us to solutions not duels
we look to exercise a compassion
that’s harder to do than primal and physical bashin’

If we find principles to live by and maintain consistence
it makes it easier to live with insistence,
to insist on choices that matter for others
and live as sisters and brothers.

Yeah, it’s a bunch of words and rhymes and silliness, you think?
But life goes fast, I hear, like some beats, some thumps, a blink.
So if we add an ‘encore’ to the front of the rage
And invite others up on our stage,
we can all be stars on this circus of ours
knowing not the remaining hours we have in our powers,

cause there is a time to stand strong
with others who stand against wrong,

but what is wrong, you ask?
I think you’re wrong, and disagree with your interpretation of this task…

well, yeah, what I’m saying… is there are principles of living life just
that align with the principles we must, we must use or they die and they rust,

if we value the Gospel, for sample,
we must, we must accept its simple example:

to love God and neighbors with all of our heart
and treat all as our neighbors, not someone separate apart.

I’ll segue to a sudden conclusion
and simply suggest as a rule a little greater inclusion,

inclusion of others in the decisions we take
and the crossroads we make.

So farewell for right now,
I conclude with a grin and a bow.

——

Every morning recently, we have been listening to Xavier Rudd’s Spirit Bird. Specifically, his live 2018 version. It might be the greatest song of all time.

Please listen.

Soldier on, soldier on my good countrymen
Keep fighting for your culture now, keep fighting for your land
I know it's been thousands of years and I feel your hurt
And I know it's wrong and you feel
You've been chained and broken and burned
And those beautiful old people, those wise old souls
Have been ground down for far too long
By that spineless man, that greedy man, that heartless man
Deceiving man, that government hand taking blood and land
Taking blood and land and still they can
But your dreaming and your warrior spirit lives on and it is so, so, so strong
In the earth, in the trees, in the rocks
In the water, in your blood and in the air we breathe
Soldier on, soldier on my good countrymen
Keep fighting for your children now, keep fighting for your land

Postscript: I started this on March 2 and have been adding little snippets here and there when I feel like. That’s how I often write. May your day be wondrous and wonderful. 😊

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