Tag Archives: fear

Shhhh I’m Now A Terrorist (Apparently)

“True moderation in the defence of political liberties is indeed a difficult thing: pretending to want fair shares for all, every man raises himself by depressing his neighbour; our anxiety to avoid oppression leads us to practice it ourselves; the injustice we repel, we visit in turn upon others, as if there were no choice except either to do it or to suffer it.” Titus Livy

Be afraid,

Be very, VERY, very afraid,

For the revolution is upon us,

Upon US and WE are the enemy.

Friends,

Be no more my friends,

Deny you know me,

Deny our experiences,

And the times we have known,

For in the exercise of OUR now non existent rights,

Global,

I am a, shhhhhhhhhh,

Whisper,

Extremist;

A terrorist.

By virtue,

Imbued by parents who clearly loved me,

I fiercely ravished books,

Thousands,

And still do today,

Of every possible design,

Exploring thoughts,

Exploring my own as result,

Analyzing, accepting and refusing,

At the behest of rationality,

Ideas that I find genuine,

And dismissing though entertaining those,

That insult,

As Whitman would suggest,

My soul,

But shhhhh,

Whisper,

I am a,

Terrorist.

“War is peace.

Freedom is slavery.

Ignorance is strength.” Orwell

Our civilization,

So called,

Has declared war,

Globally,

Against religions for oil,

Against citizens for greed,

Against myself and others like me,

For exercising our minds,

Exploring facts in evidence,

Exposing them,

Expressing and disseminating them,

And for this noble cause,

According to the bastions of governmental influence,

My thoughts,

My words,

These words,

Make me a terrorist,

An extremist,

For bearing witness against the wickedness of an evil few,

That pit us against each other,

For the perpetuation of their iniquity,

AT YOUR EXPENSE,

And for this,

I am,

A terrorist?

“As man consists of body and soul, all our possessions and pursuits partake of the nature of one or the other. Thus personal beauty and great wealth, bodily strength, and all similar things, soon pass away; the noble achievements of the intellect are immortal like the soul itself. Physical advantages, and the material gifts of fortune, begin and end; all that comes into existence, perishes; all that grows, must one day decay. But the soul, incorruptible and eternal, is the ruler of mankind; it guides and controls everything, subject itself to no control. Wherefore we can but marvel the more at the unnatural conduct of those who abandon themselves to bodily pleasures and pass their time in riotous living and idleness, neglecting their intelligence–the best and noblest element in man’s nature–and letting it become dull through lack of effort; and that, too, when the mind is capable of so many different accomplishments that can win the highest distinction.” Sallust

As an extremist,

Well read and reasonably well written,

I posit that in this temporal realm,

I have a body that will pass,

While these words,

The ideas that they present,

Represent and in some cases resent,

Live on,

Non Omnis Moriar,

Each of you are as Sallust suggests,

Abandoning yourselves to sins of the flesh,

Gluttons feeding at the trough of your own demise,

Giving freely your bodies, minds and souls,

To a hapless few that centuries ago,

Created a system in which you are owned,

From the moment of your birth,

Until the moment of the execution of your last will,

And testament,

At which point they no longer own you,

Returned, as we all will be,

To the universe,

But you don’t need to believe me,

Although, for these words, governments now claim,

I am a terrorist,

An extremist because I QUESTION everything;

As for illustration you should wonder;

Why, on all official documents,

From governments,

Birth Certificate and Passport,

Are your names ONLY in Capital LETTERS,

I AM NOT SENDER D. MACLEAN;
I am Sender D. MacLean

And as I openly rebel,

Intellectually and with these words,

I am not owned,

As slave,

For education, knowledge and understanding have set me free,

Just as easily so too could thou be,

But be forewarned,

This makes you a terrorist,

An extremist,

For you stand diametrically opposed,

To plans laid out centuries ago,

Maintained, perpetuated and mobilized,

Through the states monopoly on several powers,

None greater than the use of force,

Physically through the Corporations of Police Departments the world over,

Revenue generators,

Through the industrialized militaries,

Revenue generators,

Who despite their oaths at will violate your supposed rights,

Financially,

Through death warrants and a monetary system,

That creates something from nothing,

In perpetuity,

Enslaving you quite visibly,

Through DEBT!

“They have plundered the world, stripping naked the land in their hunger… they are driven by greed, if their enemy be rich; by ambition, if poor… They ravage, they slaughter, they seize by false pretenses, and all of this they hail as the construction of empire. And when in their wake nothing remains but a desert, they call that peace.” Tacitus
Who are THEY?

Like any paperback detective,

Follow the money,

That facts in evidence are there for you to see,

Explore, analyze and reason,

With your minds,

Who THEY are,

But believe me, you are not one of THEM,

If you’re reading this right now,

But in your names,

And with your artificial currencies they are waging wars,

Of aggression, economic and military, psychological and spiritual,

To prolong this new form of empire and imperialism,

Colonialism all but in name,

And for these realities that I so deftly make you aware,

I am now to be branded a terrorist,

An extremist,

Because I can think,

And my friends, FORMER friends now as you should move from me,

Know this,

Tacitus was right,

Just look at the last one hundred years,

Unearth the facts in evidence,

And you will see the desertification of peace,

I assure you,

But be forewarned,

This makes you an extremist,

Thinking,

Makes you a terrorist,

And by doing so you will become and remain,

An enemy of the state.
“Nescire autem quid antequam natus sis acciderit, id est semper esse puerum. (To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born is to remain always a child.)” Marcus Tullius Cicero
As an extreme terrorist,

Because I think,

May I assure you thus,

I write from no moral authority,

As a former victimizer myself,

Instead I feel compelled ethically,

To disseminate thought,

Regardless of the outcome to me,

Not by telling you facts,

For facts are like statistics,

They can and are easily perverted in the halls of power,

For whatever nefarious means,

Instead,

From an informed and well read mental library,

I unleash a furious torment,

That should unleash in you an insatiable curiosity,

To THINK,

Critically,

To read, read and read some more,

For everything you think you know,

Every story told by your governments and institutions are falsehoods,

And your ignorance, YOUR ignorance reinforces their centuries old plans,

Do not blithely accept false narratives,

Presented to you by wicked people,

Of evil design,

Who own you,

Instead rationally arrive at your own conclusions,

But again,

I forewarn you,

These actions will make you an enemy of the state,

Perverts to a system that owns you,

A system that will defile or detain you,

Destroy or indebt you,

They will assail your work, your life, your bank accounts,

Your property and will take from you every supposed liberty you have,

At will, THEIRS,

Simply for thinking,

Because in opposition to their deceitful narrative,

You are the enemy,

An extremist,

A terrorist.
“In a republican nation, whose citizens are to be led by reason and persuasion and not by force, the art of reasoning becomes of first importance” Thomas Jefferson

Where is your reason?

What do you think?

I know of their persuasion,

I was a persuader,

I know of your acceptance of it,

Physical, spiritual and mental,

And you sit there,

Intellectually naked,

Refusing to see obviously apparent realities,

Trading your freedom for comfort,

Trading your thoughts for blood money,

As THEY, of whom you are NOT,

Are laughing because their systems are achieving,

By design,

What centuries ago was set in motion,

And by not thinking critically,

QUESTIONING EVERYTHING,

You give them ever more powers,

And soon,

Of this I am sure,

We will ALL be terrorists,

Silently stalked and hunted down,

At any mention of a perverted thought,

Against the machinations of power.

“In Company with Sallust, Cicero, Tacitus and Livy, you will learn Wisdom and Virtue. You will see them represented, with all the Charms which Language and Imagination can exhibit, and Vice and Folly painted in all their Deformity and Horror.

You will ever remember that all the End of study is to make you a good Man and a useful Citizen.—This will ever be the Sum total of the Advice of your affectionate Father,

John Adams”

By nature,

In my heart and soul I believe,

In the goodness of humanity,

However, I am acutely aware,

And have actively participated in enslavement,

Of you,

Using words like links in a chain,

That you will never see,

So long as you believe talking heads,

Consume products of spilt blood,

Engorge yourself with poisons,

Rather than devouring, blessedly,

KNOWLEDGE, which is POWER,

And which when used can SET YOU FREE.
But again,

You sit idly by,

As if the television, radio, movies or Facebook,

Can inform you passively,

They are tools of mass distraction,

To keep you from informing yourselves,

To delude you, divide and conquer you,

And believe me,

You have been conquered,

But through intellectual exercise you can and should free your mind,

In so doing,

Putting yourself directly in the cross hairs,

Becoming an extremist for speaking out,

Standing up and protesting peacefully,

As you are supposedly allowed to do,

But not for long,

And thus I wonder,

Will you read, analyze, examine and explore,

Or feast at the banquet table of lies that enslave you,

For the choice is yours?

“If voting made any difference they wouldn’t let us do it.” Mark Twain

Would they lock Twain up today?

Terrorist?

For social commentary necessary to expose,

The iniquity of man?

For in a way, they already have,

Having removed the word nigger from his works,

As THEY continue to white wash history,

Just as easily as Huck a fence,

And as a victimizer,

I admit my guilt,

In my knowledge that voting makes no difference,

For people like me,

Manipulated by vice,

Can rig any vote, any where, any time,

And yet, within the current paradigm,

If you don’t vote,

Which I beseech you to do,

You relegate yourself to arm chair quarterbacks,

Uninformed and deserving of what befalls you,

The real vote, the one that counts,

Is the artificial currency in your accounts and wallets,

Vote wisely and en masse and watch how quickly the tower of Babel,

Comes crumbling down,

But remember,

This opposition, active not passive,

Will brand you,

Just as I, an extremist,

A terrorist!

“The work of an intellectual is not to form the political will of others; it is, through the analyses he does in his own domains, to bring assumptions and things taken for granted again into question, to shake habits, ways of acting and thinking, to dispel the familiarity of the accepted, to take the measure of rules and institutions and, starting from that re-problemitisation (where he plays his specific role as intellectual) to take part in the formation of a political will (where he has his role to play as citizen).” Michel Foucault

I am Sender D. MacLean,

The third of eight children,

A man,

A lover,

A reader,

A writer,

A teacher,

A warrior poet,

As a now branded by government puppets extremist and terrorist,

Please I beg of you to understand,

The assumptions made by you are dangerous,

Not to me,

But for us all,

The collective known as humanity,

Which imperils every other species on this Spaceship Earth,

The rules, institutions, histories, established order,

They are all predicated on a contrived, well executed, funded and manipulating

Series of systems that seek to make idiots of you all,

And it’s working,

QUESTION EVERYTHING,

Take power back,

Rise up, PEACEFULLY,

United,

For an idea whose time has come,

Is more powerful than all the armies in the world.

“The first duty of a man is to think for himself” Jose Marti

It is a tragedy,

That I am become terrorist and extremist,

In exercising my first duty,

To think,

But I beg of you;

What would you do?
Will you perform your first duty?

Or will you sit absentmindedly by,

Until that coming moment,

I assure you,

When under cover of darkness,

Or even in the light of day,

They come knocking at your door?

That is, unless of course, you start THINKING!

Last week,

So called leaders of the world,

Puppets in their emperors finest clothes,

Gathered in Sodom,

The heart of financial terror,

Each presenting cases on the ills affecting our world,

Christian, Jew, Muslim and Atheists all,

At the pulpit of the New World Order,

Speaking vacuously,

Inciting hatred and promoting increased war,

Up to and including, yours truly,

Sender D. MacLean,

Extremist and terrorist,

WHY?

For thinking.

Scribo Ergo Sum!

“Once the government can demand of a publisher the names of the purchasers of his publications, the free press as we know it disappears. Then the spectre of a government agent will look over the shoulder of everyone who reads. The purchase of a book or pamphlet today may result in a subpoena tomorrow. Fear of criticism goes with every person into the bookstall. The subtle, imponderable pressures of the orthodox lay hold. Some will fear to read what is unpopular, what the powers-that-be dislike. When the light of publicity may reach any student, any teacher, inquiry will be discouraged. The books and pamphlets that are critical of the administration, that preach an unpopular policy in domestic or foreign affairs, that are in disrepute in the orthodox school of thought will be suspect and subject to investigation. The press and its readers will pay a heavy price in harassment. But that will be minor in comparison with the menace of the shadow which government will cast over literature that does not follow the dominant party line. If the lady from Toledo can be required to disclose what she read yesterday and what she will read tomorrow, fear will take the place of freedom in the libraries, book stores, and homes of the land. Through the harassment of hearings, investigations, reports, and subpoenas government will hold a club over speech and over the press.”

[United States v. Rumely, 345 U.S. 41 (1953)]” William O. Douglas

Base desires,

Primal; are actively used against you,

And YOU passively accept it,

Desire and Fear,

Desire to consume,

Fear of the invisible, artificially created boogey men,

Governments the world over are now using this club,

Branding those who would think,

Like me,

Terrorist or extremist,

But I am not those things,

I am a human being,

Deeply concerned,

Imbued with a mind that thinks,

One that encourages rationality and intellectuality,

I provoke and promote NO violence,

Although I do represent intellectual violence,

Whereby thoughts can destroy these machinations;

I encourage peaceful dissolution of the systems that own you,

But it is only YOU, YOU who hold the reins of that power.

Will you use it?
“Protest beyond the law is not a departure from democracy; it is absolutely essential to it.” Howard Zinn

SDM

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No Ordinary Love

Have you ever been flying in a dream,

Only, like Icarus,

Find yourself flying too close to the sun,

Wings unglued, undone,

Falling fast and free toward the ground?

Like I am now,

Beat up by the annulment

Of my two greatest desires,

Love, requited, as by my lover and wife to be,

And for the love of my child,

Purported, distorted and now, like me,

Abandoned.

 

That my dear girl,

Muse,

Is how I feel now,

Enraptured by a thought conceived,

At the moment of my conception,

Hopefully leading to a reality believed,

And then lived,

With you,

Muse.

 

For in the invitation of your smile,

I like Romeo, and you, like Juliet,

I would rather die than be without you,

Can you understand?

Will you?

Nor can I, for there is no reason,

Save those that express themselves here,

Logic,

Like a machine gun in affairs of the heart,

Where this soul bleeds missives,

Longing and desire in the trench warfare of sensations so rare,

They must not,

Not,

Be ignored,

Confused, or otherwise,

In true love,

Resistance is futile,

And this is true isn’t it?

 

Should these clever words not reveal,

The eaten core,

Of the battered history of this wounded heart,

Lets we, start anew,

Today a new beginning,

Filled with all the hope and promise we both know is real,

Genuine,

In the clever pursuit of each other,

Overcoming all obstacles,

Muse,

To disclose this mask of sorrow,

That would readily disappear tomorrow,

Should you find the conviction,

Inside these dictions,

To return,

To,

Sender.

 

Is this what happened?

Happens?

To those fabled men? Histories giants?

Captivated by those women who immediately owned their mind, body and soul,

Those men,

Like me now,

Who met their muses,

For certainly these words profess,

You are, my Muse,

Evidenced herein I wonder,

Aphrodite,

Cleopatra,

Helen of Troy,

All enchanting,

Just like you,

You.

Those words spoken,

Can not be undone,

Those feelings expressed,

Did not, do not just fade away,

True love never dies.

 

Delilah,

Eve,

Ruth,

Who though perhaps uncouth still held court,

And found their men measured and wanting,

Of them,

Each victim of Cupid’s arrow instantly beguiled,

Finding in their evolution,

For we all change,

Evolve,

Become better,

The conclusion that love,

Only love,

Is the answer.

 

Philemon,

Echo,

Eurydice,

Shall I Orpheus be?

Unleash the tormented tears of gods and nymphs alike,

As I have been bitten,

Not smitten,

Bitten by the intrinsic charms that make you the unique flower you are,

My Lily,

Shall I to the underworld,

Begging of those gods for your return,

Though this time remembering to not look back,

Until this earthly plain we have arrived,

For I do not want you to vanish,

Ever.

 

Our story,

So far, as yet, unwritten,

May be, we, like Salim and Anarkall,

You the beautiful courtesan,

And me the ordinary boy,

With an extraordinary mind,

Beautiful,

Falling for you in a moment of grace,

Where your eyes danced,

And your spirit soared,

Inspiring these words that adore,

But I can no more make you love me,

Than I can make the sun revolve around the earth,

But I do not want to watch you,

At my expense,

Entombed in front of my eyes,

Ordinary boy that I may be,

Ordinary, you,

Are not.

 

Are you my Penelope?

As Odysseus are we to be ripped apart at the seams,

Years passing,

Twenty,

Before you realize that I can, will and want to take care of you,

Ever more,

True love,

This, possible,

Is not only worth waiting for,

But is worth being without other suitors,

Ever present though they may be,

For I know what I desire,

And it is only within you,

Muse.

 

Like Pocahontas and John Smith,

From two different worlds we may be,

But the same earth we share,

And that is enough to make me feel the warmth of your soul,

With every step I take,

Electrified by the earth we share,

Where I, empowered, by your loveliness,

Of beauty I dare not speak, instead that inner resplendence,

Such that I would bear the burden of the torture,

This torture,

Literal and figurative,

Of being without you,

Where informed of my death you move on,

Only to discover years later,

That you were and are,

The only one for me,

True lovers,

Meant and destined to be.

 

Even in death I long to be with you,

Strewn across the affairs of your heart,

Like Pyramus and Thisbe,

Babylonians to the end,

Like Rapunzel are you in a tower?

May I ascend?

Freeing you from your confusion,

And all that ails you?

 

Friends though only now we have become,

A lifelong story begins with one step,

Having taken one, two, three,

Are you ready to take more?

I believe you are,

Stop fighting your desire,

Soar with me.

 

And this journey is not yet run,

While surely you are the fairest,

Doubtless,

Without equivocation,

The beast I may be,

But your beast I will be,

Bearing the burden, gleefully,

Of ensuring your every happiness,

Only to discover that your veil inside the lion’s mouth,

Makes my life no longer matter,

Such that without you,

I would pierce my own chest,

That in death we may again be reunited,

(hopefully years from now on B-612, ours)

For perhaps in seeing this dedication,

You too would see,

What may be.

Are we like Paolo and Francesca,

You, temporarily destined to Gianciatto,

While I sit in wait,

While we both read of Guinevere and Lancelot,

Finding in that tale the tale of our own,

Once upon a time and happily ever after,

Where for a brief moment,

Before our demise we know,

Truly,

What love can be?

 

Let’s hope it is not too late…

Like Eloise and Abelard,

Shall I be your tutor,

And you my teacher,

Secret advances,

While our affection grows,

A love for the ages,

Sages imparted as we find,

That the dog you seek,

Becomes the child we both crave,

Born of a rare love,

And a circumstantial tragedy,

Tearing me apart, only to rebuild me again,

Better than before

Are you ready,

Separated by a love that makes me monk and you nun,

Evermore in love,

With nothing more than these words of evidence,

And my every action too,

Of what I believe to be true,

Am willing to profess,

Dare I say,

Know.

 

Perhaps we are like Layla and Majnun,

Tragically aware, that this love can’t be,

Cultural realities,

Marital realities,

Confusion,

Won’t be,

Yet should be,

Is this love unattainable?

Our love observed by a previous lover,

Maybe jealous,

Maybe cautious,

Maybe?

Such that we are prevented from seeing each other again…

Will we see each other again?

I long to see you again,

Every moment of every day,

The eccentric that I am,

Shall I stop eating,

Further emaciating,

For without the nourishment of love,

What am I,

But lost,

Majnun,

Madman,

For you,

Muse,

Will time, space and people keep us apart,

Shakespearean tragedy and faults,

Only to lay with each other in death,

Ashes strewn wherever our hearts agree?

 

Are you ready to experiment with your life,

And mine?

Join hands once more,

Feel that fire, undeniable,

As partners,

In life,

In love,

In molding the measured existence that transcends unified string theory

And even Stephen Hawking’s mind?

Like Marie and Pierre Curie,

Shall we spend every waking hour in the pursuit of something more,

Knowledge,

Wisdom,

Understanding,

LOVE,

As I am driven by you,

To excellence,

For you are my Nobel Prize,

You are,

My Nobel Prize,

Muse,

 

And I hope that in this obvious treatise you can see,

What awaits,

Should you decide,

To return,

Love sick idiot though I may be,

I am a lover,

You’d like to know,

Discover and be,

with.

Cast aside your fears,

Your doubts,

Cast aside your confusion,

And empower this love,

I love you,

I love you,

I love you,

And that will never change,

My Hmong Key!

For we are not ordinary people

And this,

This is no ordinary love…

SDM

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Any Day Now

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3P9I-2lPGo]
The nightmares came,
And now they come again,
Again,
Two of them,
In rapid succession,
Sometimes for days,
Sometimes for weeks,
This year for months,
As the brisk November air,
Is greeted by the cool summer breeze,
Beyond belief reminding me of that sullen day in Detroit,
As sub tropical realities break through,
And painful decisions do recoil.
Torture quelling any thought other than you, as I tortured you,
As both cruel and unusual punishment,
For what did you do?
What did you do?

N O T H I N G

Your existence enough to cause your demise,
That knowledge stays with me,
And again reminds me of what  I have done,
We?
WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Always has and always will,
Reminded of what power and money can do,
And people that truly don’t see,
Forest for the trees,
The misery of mental projections,
Internalized hellish trial,
Mine own,
Of my crime against humanity,
Against my own child,
C H I L D R E N,
Family?

So, so, so sorry am I,
Silent stalker of repressed emotions,
Those that I must endure,
For to do less would mean my own quietus,
The instant terror does not creep,
But leaps,
Inside my psyche and haunts my sleep,
Shaking my resolve as I awake,
The skeletons in my closet are not only proverbial,
Skeletons,
Abstractly literal,
The symbolism of this agony,
So overpowering I am assaulted,
As a domestic abuse that I conceded,
Robbing you of life, lives,
As I did,
I did,
You live on, frightfully, inside this mind,
Torn already into three parts,
I and I and I,
With a bids eye view of what an abortion looks like,
With a front row seat,
Apparent encores without bravos,
Gashes in this weary soul, reliving the pain of a broken heart,
My greatest aspirations, taken,
AGAIN,
Reliving time and again how it feels,
To watch the light of an unborn child,
Snubbed,
By my hand,
By my hand?
ME?

In surreal images, lurid, prurient,
Of your mother, running toward me,
Tears welling up in her eyes,
As her shrill and piercing screams,
Command that I look at you,
As she carry you,
Both of you covered in blood,
Running down the hall of that clinic,
Its institutional walls and discrete exterior,
So perfectly recorded in every detail,
That I could walk from Toronto with my eyes closed,
Having returned to the scene of the crime since our time,
A trip that I will never forget,
And have taken again,
Closing them now,
No good, for I am here,
The Mekong calling me,
I do look, my humanity demands it,
For even as I may try not to,
I lost more than my innocence that day,
And this one that follows,
And again,
I lost the gift of life, the power of it,
Taken away by over zealous parents,
Your mothers,
Family, friends and others,
Who despite our designs,
Instead decided that they knew better,
As time passes and I reflect,
Making the same mistakes,
On the events leading up to your demise,
I beat myself up,
Raising my head to the heavens;

“RELEASE ME…”

I embrace the raw emotions and feelings,
Knowing that I must experience this pain,
To account for the ill done against you,
And YOU,
That ill,
With a resonance that becomes master of my thoughts,
Divided, confused, scared, shocked, upset,
Berating, deflating, never abating,
For nothing would change,
Could change,
What we were forced to do,
What we chose to do,
What I said was all right,
Knowing that my solace will only arrive,
When I know your mother has again been with child,
And I too get to hold dear a child of my own,
I’m sorry,
An apology that seems vacuous now,
But it is true,
I am,
Sorry.

SORRY!

SDM

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Benign Neglect

Benign neglect,
In that we do not see,
Can not see?
Refuse to see?
Bearing false witness,
In gilded churches, synagogues and mosques,
Ivory towers where the powerful feast,
While;
People wasting away on the street,
Right in front of them,
Right in front of us;

Cold and tired,

Hungry and wet,

Dying of starvation, a lack of shelter,

A societal lack of support,

It’s more than that,
Much more;

Ghettos,
Girdles of steel and brick,
Built by the cheapest bidder,
Creating a mental prison,
From which so few can escape.

An economy built on conviction,
Of the underclass that is,
A brave young poet once proclaimed,
Growing up,
In a ‘jail cell economy,’
Motivated by profit.

Schools,
Rat infested and asbestos laden,
As true in New York or London as it is in Vientiane or Vienna,
Blackboards and whiteboards from a different era,
Lessons that are no longer relevant,
Teachers that no longer teach,
Instead guiding the way through some standardized test.

Its hard to care when you’re conditioned to believe that no one else does,
Purple, blue, red, yellow, black and white,
Puddles filled with caps of each,
Representing our fallen youth,
Cocaine, Heroin, Meth and more,
Fall,
Falling,
Fallen…

Lies,
Presented as truth,
An arrogant matter of factness,
Sold by Brian Williams or Tom Brokaw,
The news no longer all that fits to print,
Instead,
Become all that’s fit to instill fear,
Pushing forward sn agenda,
That you nor I never get to vote on,
Profit;

From our comfortable storied walls of power brokers,
Recreation centers,
Parks and the corners,
The breeding ground for both good and bad,
Morality decided by shades of gray,
Innumerbale,
No black or white,
We complain,
While sipping a chardonnay, or a Starbuck’s or a coke,
Yet most of us don’t even vote,
And when we do,
Who are we really electing?

Do you know the faces behind the suit,
Have you ever stopped to ask?
The illusion of choice is not a choice,
But shackles from which we cannot escape,
Who are their masters? Who are yours?
Where do they get their information,
Not to mention the very words that come out of their mouths?

And yet…
Look at the power you give them and look at what they’ve done,
What have they done?

Do none of you see?
Do none of you have the same fears?
Osama was not THE ‘terror,’
Merely one face of it,
A coward that hid behind faulty logic and misrepresented theology,
Once bought and paid for by the very people that label him,
‘Terrorist,’
Driven by hate;

But make no mistake, there are a million more driven by hate and fear.

National populations suffer from starvation –
When is the last time you didn’t finish a meal?

Drought, a lack of access to education,
Technology and science, my education undervalued,
My technology underused ,
As the Advil I take for a hangover could serve a much better purpose.

Prejudice, ignorance and fear,
Blinding society to the clear reality of life on earth today,
Blinding me,
Blinding you.

Milosevic (like so many before him)
Killed without prejudice any that got in his way –
Racial cleansing,
It sound so institutional doesn’t it?
So scientific, lets call it what it is, not make it easy to say –
Genocide (though we promised never again, look around today)

Damn political correctness –
Lets call a spade a spade,
Those mass graves and the videos we’ve seen,
Represent the decision of a sick man,
For the wholesale slaughtering,
Murdering and destruction of Muslims
In his very own modern Oprichnina.

Though, no less guilty are we,
Who sleep comfortably in our beds,
While drones strike far off lands,
Extraordinary rendition takes place,
In the murky grays we never see,
The boogie man is real,
You just never see him,
All in the name of freedom and peace?

Through time, the poet, the artist, the dreamer,
The playwright, actor, director, novelist, philosopher, student,

Any truly inspired by passion have dreamed of a better place –

And maybe,
Just maybe,
We’ve seen bits and pieces,
But there is so much more to go…

What can you do?

What will you do?

What will,

YOU,

Do?

SDM

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The Very Nearness of You!

The very nearness of you,

Knowledge of you,

That you are not a distant dream,

But instead a reality pulled,

Defies the gravitational force of light,

Love,

Slapping Newton squarely in the jaw,

Escaping  the undeniable,

Avoiding the inevitable,

As the black hole of a certain past,

Gives way to the dark matter,

Of our illuminated path,

And new each day as we discover,

The reasons we have to love each other,

Feelings, emotions and treasured desires,

Logic choking my lungs,

Asphyxiating all the reasons against,

Fueling all the reasons for,

For there is no reason,

Is there?

 

Save that there is…

 

More than one…

 

For this life is not a game,

Or a rehearsal,

It is lived,

In a series of moments,

Where fate, chance, destiny and serendipity open doors,

Where they do not exist and we must choose,

CHOOSE,

Whether we realize the falseness of the opening,

Is the very proof that they exist…

 

Open this door,

Walk through it,

Open me,

Crazy as it seems,

Crazy as it is,

Crazy as I am,

Walk through it,

Walk to me,

Walk with me,

As your eyes and smile already have,

Each time we coyly meet inside a secret garden,

To which only we have access,

For the now,

And when we can together expose,

What the world already knows,

Inside these words,

To see with their eyes,

L O V E,

Will manifest,

In ever new and wondrous ways;

For you,

For me,

For us,

Exposed,

Naked and restless,

Listless and wanting of nothing,

Save another moment with you.

 

For every moment that passes,

That you are not with me,

Is like a lifetime lived without the very essence of truth,

Your spirit,

Kissing mine,

Embracing the darkness that is so rich,

Claiming false the necessity of my brooding ways,

Hearing too the realities of my barking bitch,

This Black Dog,

Proving it,

With a tenderness that reveals all I could be,

(all I am)

If I just got out of my own way,

Allowing you to break the well crafted walls I have erected,

Protected,

From the anguish of ripe cancellation,

Save but three times,

Fearing the worst both in myself,

And the abandonment that follows,

Knowing the pain of separation as only I can,

For I have been separated,

I and I and I,

Now uncovering layers like an onion,

Forcing me to cry,

Not tears of sorrow,

Instead of joy.

 

For tomorrow I will see you,

Surreptitiously,

As this world wonders,

Why I beam

And you glow,

All the while we,

And we alone know,

The answer to the question we’ve both asked since our youth,

Swinging from the branches of the tree of life,

Ending years of strife,

Beginning anew,

Beginning with you,

Knowing it’s true, I can’t fight,

This way,

We feel inside,

I am yours

And you,

You are mine,

Adored,

Ever more,

Agape love.

SDM

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