Search

clcouch123

I talk you talk we'll talk

Tag

protest

photograph of one who stands different

Don’t Remove This Label

(x = space)

x

x

Don’t Remove This Label

x

I don’t want to reason

Only secularly

But I look where I am

And listen

x

In a long room

Whose beauty is beneath

Because the skin and other features

Are so poorly cared for

x

Which is to say

It’s old and could be good

But isn’t good

x

The noise of the world

Breaks in from above

And neither rule

Nor rent

Is cared about

x

Outside is a cold and pleasant day

At least to see

I see too much

And need to invoke

The other senses so much more

x

Drivers misbehave outside

Sometimes pedestrians

Though the thing about the outside noise

Is that it moves on

x

And I know

There are fires

That burn acreage

In a wild and awful way

And those who fight these flames

Are often hurt

And much is lost

Famously

In fires

x

And there is war I do not understand

And thank you I don’t want to

I’m sorry

But a bomb

Blasting away everything I know

And cuts away at me

By foes’ intent

I would be crazed

In every way

And to know the agency was human

Without randomness

For an agenda

x

And I know that states are falling

While brave people

Stand against

The evil reasons

And the power that, created good,

Is now corrupted

And maybe has been

For a while

But in a den bares now

Its blooded teeth

Behind a guard

That operates somehow

To keep the good ones from approaching

x

And I say it thus

With distance

Not that local evil

Hasn’t worked its way

Maybe the world

Learning of democracy

Is ruled by princes

After all

x

I simply want a quiet day

And promise of another

I want boredom

To be my awful challenge

And in this way I’ll try

To address the rest

I really will

From here

And now

x

You may decide what I am or

Most of you

Ignore me

And why not

Ignoring what

We need

To keep our naïve brand

In place

Like the labels on the furnishings

We do not tear off

Even though I doubt

The wars

Should care

x

I care

Not about that

But decades into this

I care

You might care as well

And more than me

Knowing better what to protest

What to fight for

x

Not to mention

I would rather be

Which makes everything more difficult

With you

Attached

Rather than against you

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Thomas Dumortier on Unsplash

x

You and Me, Sister

You and Me, Sister

 

There are all around us

Words, voices, noises all

That tell us how to live

What to buy

How to vote

How to understand the righteous way

To have our way

And somehow please the gods, made

Masks of self-will

And agenda

The presupposed mighty

Who believe this

 

Heavy understanding

As in labored, rasping breathing

Weighted with the chains of Ebenezer

Leaden steps to its own ruin of

The truth, the peace, the joy

Held captive in

The castle of the rich

Where it gets out as planned,

God is chained or

Does not exist

Whichever muttering in shadows works

For the next parched day

 

But there are shadows within shadows

Truth in chains

There are prophecies about antitheses

There are always prophecies

The magi before Herod

Nathan before David

Elijah and the attitude of Jezebel

Defeat of those who take and hold

For now

The gold crust of Earth

Annihilation of the profits (this kind,

please note)

In a pit and everything

That has propelled the wrong kind of

Dragon, not the jeweled interest bred in stories

But the beast, the pet, the ruler of rust

And melted riches

 

There are always prophecies

We need them

They stock our campaign

Give us words for songs

And dimensional conversation

To march us on the plain

Toward pointed everything

The real change that prophecy intrigues

The reason why the thing slouching

Toward Megiddo

Can be mocked, if not ignored

The devil’s own soft points

Paranoia, riled into defeat

 

We win

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by Manuela Milani from Pixabay

 

Endure Oregon Protest

Endure Oregon Protest

They are still in Oregon.
The protest goes and has
Closed in. A leader, Cliven
Bundy, was arrested.

“Cliven” could be a past-
participle word for
“Cleave” (I don’t know
that it was)—an odd word

cleave: on its own, it would
seem to mean to cut into
two, yet it is the word used
for bonding in marriage

talk. Maybe the ideas is
that in marrying we slice
ourselves off one plant
and in a cleaved (or cliven)

state are grafted to another.
From both parts, then, new
growth is hybrid-formed—
and was such unity made

made here? Since one last
leader was taken, it would
not seem so; disunity, like
bad harmony, sounds from

final voices that endured.
Not to say that protest by
occupying and with guns
is a better way, for it is not.

But someone should really
hear what they have to say—
I’m not partisan in this
for feeling for both sides.

I simply wish equality imbued.
Everyone should be heard.
Everybody gets a turn. Not
A game—but how we should

have it. All the same.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑