A divided country must heal, somehow.
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America (a 6-word story)
Embracing the Absurd
Every so often, when things get really crazy, I like to think about Albert Camus. I turned to Camus’ writings a few years ago when my personal life fell off the rails. Yesterday, when Pro-Trump loyalists stormed the U.S. Capitol, I began to think of Camus again.
American politics right now are definitely absurd. People have been throwing around a lot of words to describe what’s going on: unprecedented, dark, nihilistic. Absurd is a good adjective, too.
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Unity over Division (a photo)
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Music of Democracy (a poem)
dance in the street, move to the music
of democracy – our long national nightmare
is over, we’ve been chopped to pieces
by a man filled with grievances –
we’re hoping he fades away
locked in his gilded towers
removed from power
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Praying for Peace
Unless you live under a rock, you’re probably aware there’s an election going on in the U.S. right now – and it’s ugly. As the vote drags on, I’m becoming more weary and tired of the ugliness.
Full disclaimer: I support Joe Biden. I’m happy it appears he’ll win, and for the past four years, I’ve grown to very much dislike Mr. Trump. Either way, I’m sad about what’s happening in my country and the way this election has driven us even further apart.
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Rock the Vote! (a prose poem)
Get out and vote like your life depends on it! It just may, you say, as we shimmy and shake into dreadful October daze, lost in a maze of misinfo, throwing our weight behind causes, coalitions, fighting a collapsing system with credit cards –
– get that Amazon Prime delivery straight to your door, before November third, when the third rock from the sun glitters in the galaxy from light years away with bloody-red shouts heard in the coldness of the space race –
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We Refuse (a protest poem)
this orange-faced goblin
beckons me to be violent
I refuse
keep yappin’, Mr. Yapper
spit your lies
cover the eyes
of the faithful who
follow you to an abyss
I refuse
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On Racism and Growing up in the American South
Growing up in the South, you learn from an early age about racism. Our public schools taught from books that The Daughters of the Confederacy bought for schools. Eventually, we read books that actually told some truth.
I remember reading about the Civil Rights movement and its leaders. I remember learning details about Martin Luther King, Jr. I remember feeling shame to know he was assassinated in my home state of Tennessee.
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American Shrine (a poem)
Traveling through America, in search of the Shrine
you know the one, mister, the place that encapsulates
our nation’s fears, dreams, triumphs + loathing –
some say the shrine is a shopping mall
Mother Church of Consumerism
but you know better
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