Disillusioned

How did this chasm,
this canyon of lies
become our normal?

Facts, once the sword
of intellect, redundant –
we fight with hyperbole

Voices raised, egos puffed –
I long for calm, doubt
we have the wherewithal
to bridge the divide.

(Image my own)

Gobsmacked

Remaining silhouette
of a leader –
hero was expected –
instead, hit with quirkiness

Unaffected by indifference
accepting his alibis
his ego bloodies
we remain strangers

Ride along
as hive buzzes lies
he sulks at refusals
commands attention

Reputation shredded
still holds appeal
gobsmacked intelligence –
and so it goes on.

(Image my own.)

Write Me an Ending

Ego fiercely defends
status quo, perceives
movement as predator

Soul craves peace,
provoked by the illusion
division the public glide

How do we manage
when progress, stripped bare
displaces understanding?

Alone, I cycle through
these observations
encounter jammed passages

Dismayed by deviancy
messages aimed to exploit
the vulnerable naked and blind.

(For Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: observation.  Image my own.)

In Dreams, She Awakens

I dream of a woman
Mother-centred
grey-haired essence
oozing strength –
a vessel, rain focused
decoding political lies.

Leaders are locked
targeting anxiety
selective stances
patriarchal bedmates
ending unsafe

Rioters blow up
martyr consciousness
metamorphosis in throngs
chemicals insignificant
when innocence ignored
temples violated.

What is next?
A future gatekeeper
spouting personal freedom
recalling pleas, charming
ghosts of the past?

We need
discernment,
a woman
Mother-centred
grey-hair wise
leading the way.

(I dreamt of a goddess figure, and attempted to capture her in the pencil drawing featured.  Working on that dream, many things have emerged.  The poem above is just on example.)