The Lake at Sunset

The lake is my sword
Cutting through life’s flagrant nonsense
Slashing its tawny leathered wrists
Spilling red sunset all about

At my side all night long
She beckons, begs, congeals a new reality–
One where purpose finally follows breath
And grandiose dreams fall aslumber–
Mere dormant volcanoes
Quieted by the watchful monks
On the flowered hillside

We must escape ourselves to find ourselves
So why not follow the lake’s hypnotic waves
Making us forget long enough to remember
the fleeting sunset, desperate scarlet flashes on the water

looking for more

at times we are at odds with others
folks who should know better–
we’re no pushovers for their lame incantations

at times we’re at odds with ourselves
struggling to find an answer
something to set us free

at times we look into the deep misplaced sky–
some place that barely exists
except for our imaginations of things to become

and always we are left to wonder
if there is any true goodness that can save us
when we’re in over our heads with no place else to go

To the Good Ole Boys and Girls in the World

In one sense
Entitlement is a matter of degree
Some expect a take far greater than others
In another sense
Entitlement is entitlement
Even those with nothing expect more
While doing little or nothing to earn it

Commonsense should prevail in these matters—
Frankly we should know better
That a day of reckoning exists for everyone
Regardless of their money, influence, other self-endowments
The world can only support so much taking
Without a commensurate or greater gift in return

I’ve come to resent entitled people
No matter their position, color, age, or persuasion
And I am so inclined to believe
That everyone potentially abuses
Their self-defined advantage
Because they’re not strong enough to make it
Without all the titles and entitlement