What is wrong with the people on this planet?
Life is so short and precious when considered along with the grand scheme of this universe, I just can't understand why there is so much hatred and malice in what is supposed to be a modern, civilized planet...We are all the very same creatures that could play so well together as small children, without restrictions or inhibitions, so why all the animosity as we age? Surely, it couldn't be about anything we could possibly have or acquire. None of that will matter as we slough off these bags of flesh when we progress to the next great adventure. There is no room in that black soil nest for anything but our mortal coil.
It won't be a matter of class. The worms don't care how well or poor one lived. They just want their next meal. Besides, we'll be buried side by side without regard to any supposed status. The only status we'll have is DEAD.
Yet, we continue to ignore or despise our neighbor. We hurt, even kill, each other using belief, wealth, politics or some other form of idiocy as an excuse, Why? It won't improve your lot. It won't extend your longevity. It won't do anything but degrade you.
There are about 7 and a half billion people on this tiny little speck of cosmic debris. With all those minds working together, we could solve a myriad of issues, from the simplest problems of growth to exploration of the universe!
But we have to do it together or it will be nothing more than an extension of our pitiful existence as it is now.
We do not need more of that. We need to eliminate the pettiness and idiocy with which we harm...
A poem from life in a small town...
NOT A TOY
in her tiny hands, the markers dance in place
her child fingers move across the dolly's face
a touch of red then some blue and even black
there! oh, so pretty...time to put them all back
no, no, wait! it's not enough. don't you see
i think they'll look so much better on me
then they won't laugh or call me a name
cause now me and barbie, we look the same
a scrap of that and the odd bit of this
delicate pieces which make our little miss
it all went together to become just her
no question now of what's to become of her
prettily colored, so silent, she is there
nary a wisp undone betrayed by her hair
forever gracing her lips, a smile, so small
asleep in her unlit room denying dreams call
in her innocent hand, markers were replaced
some cord finds the grizzliest task it ever faced
the markers and her doll become that final note
never explaining the lanyard round her tiny throat
a frail, little doll just suffering the long, brutal day
beaten, bruised, forced and forgotten in every way
hurt without respite, not a life any would choose
she was but a cheap toy for some, to use and abuse
today wasn't, yet was, so much different than before
please...don't let there be any tomorrows, any more
the sun will rise but won't blind her absent sight
drawing no more tears into it's cold, unfeeling light
and YOU who were charged with this baby's care
failed so miserably. try to deny it if you even dare
never again shall she bear all the pain they hurl
school's out forever for this devastated little girl
lame politics through which you claim your rule
shuts out what really occurs in your sad school
a child was hurt yet all you did was sit and wait
well, the waitings over, for now it is far too late
was she too skinny, too fat or maybe too plain
none of which are reasons to cause such pain
to really hurt, still you have done more than try
pierced so deep, all she had, was a reason to die
to those who acted so, throw your fears to the floor
spit your ugliness to the empty winds of before
no longer is there a target for your sneers to score
NO, barbie won't ever come out and play any more
Copyright © reprobate
I wrote this about a little girl who had been bullied in school.
The attendant authorities were informed of the ongoing abuse yet did nothing beyond the typical administrative shake and shuffle -- "We have instructed the children with regard to bullying" and other farcical claims and comments.
It was a predominate issue when my children had attended the very same school.
Sadly, this poor child was living in a broken home so she had to contend with the divorce problems at home and the ignorance at school.
Her older brother and my son were close friends and had quite often spent their free time at each other's home. So, it was quite the shock when it was learned this child, after one too many barbs or jests at her expense, went home to her room, grabbed some markers and painted her dolls and herself, then hung herself with a lamp cord. She was only 11 years old.
The school officials were quick to point out they did everything by the book.
Her untimely end was only one of the myriad of issues I encountered while living in that town and that state.
I read the occasional news snippet from there and can not believe the archaic and antediluvian attitudes which still exist and are the driving force there. Even where I am at now, which is considered quite backward by those who do not reside here, seems to be enlightened by comparison. Bible belt or not.
I titled this:
Maybe Walt Will Help
Hush now, Sweetheart, it's going to be alright
Words faux and soothing for the troubled child
As you sit at the table in your dark apartment
The power was cut off while you were at work
Struggling all day for less than minimum wage
Fifty a day should be enough, so you hoped
Now the boss is on vacation many miles away
You couldn't ask for an advance (actually beg)
So, in the cold dark, you worry with your child
Your baby is hungry but you can't cook (or see)
What will happen to the milk and eggs and such
Who will tell you everything is going to be okay
You know you honestly didn't do anything wrong
Except maybe it was to fall for an immature ass
Who won't or can't grow up and try to help out
Despite that, you still think he's worth your love
The holidays really sucked out loud this year
You couldn't afford food let alone any presents
The cold forced you to spend the utility money
You're glad you bought those thrift-shop coats
You couldn't get help from the welfare department
Not without verifiable proof of income (pay is cash)
The local church said you need to check elsewhere
Because you're not a member of the congregation
Don't want to cry in front of the baby, oh mustn't
A brave face is all your child needs to ever see
You were worried but now you're so very afraid
At least tomorrow, your baby'll be warm at school
If you use the rent, you can get the heat again
Maybe the boss'll be back from vacation by then
Thoughts of what to do next cause a little laugh
Yeah, maybe we'll go to Disneyland, huh???
Copyright © reprobate
I have seen it happen time and again. You're struggling to make ends meet and the ends keep getting further away from each other. You try and try but there just isn't enough. Of course the utility companies don't care if your broke. They're a business and as a business, they want their money. Temperature not going to drop below freezing for a couple of days? You better find a way to get their money or out go the lights. Can't find that little extra cash for the water bill? Well, tough. It's due by two weeks after you get the bill. No notice required. Gas, forget it. Pay or else. It's not as if you aren't working or trying.
Just let one hiccough occur and it's disaster time. And all the while, laws are passed demanding you better fork over more. Now you have to pay for mandatory insurance or be fined. Yet those who passed those same bits of inanity are getting the very best they can vote for themselves.
I can not speak for anyone else but I can honestly claim I can live very comfortably on just the retirement they receive after only five years of service (over 40,000 dollars).
And yet the torment continues. Where should the mind go when it clearly is not wanted. Remember, a nightmare is just a dream we don't enjoy:
It's half past five and about two cigarettes from dawn
From my mug, the coffee exhales it's climatic vapor
Passing time here,no,wasting it, in this silent alone
Dying with each agonized tick, without a clue or a care
Outside, dark green sedan strangers pass in the street
Tossing the today's folded celebrities with precise abandon
Inside, sitting, thinking, getting older, wishing I wasn't
This living corpse greets another day with a sip and a puff
Would there be a purpose, some rhyme or reason
Such that might excuse the intentionless insomnia
Just what has happened to the muse of my existence
Away, perhaps, off on some travail of the gods
Greeting the morn with a final draw of bohemian disregard
Realizing time, the cruel jester, exposes any effort as futile
Life is a pointless joke always fading into history
A dream, no, a nightmare; a soulless tear of lonely
Crushing out the morning's last lethal ember
I embark on the day's aimless chores
Maybe reason will return with the break of day
Maybe this earth-bound torment will find release
Copyright © reprobate
Life is an enigma. You can live it or just let it pass you by but it will go on...with or without you. Which is the right decision? Will time break down and give you a clue? Don't count on it.
Deft fingers scrape mournful chords
Somber thrums waft amidst doleful drumming
Secret tendrils of melody reach out
Unconsciously, shod feet tap the syncopation
The words were almost secondary in appearance
Light yet serious, they wend their way home
Melting in rapt ears, they weave their magic image
Soon all hearts see the play unfold within them
Tragic, delicate syllables of lost love and found pain
Eyes well as the tale is built then broke down
It's heard then felt even in the deepest fiber
This was surely written about me, now the common thought
A sad taste lingers like some favorite candy long since eaten
As the mind struggles to recall and repeat the now vague tune
Memories of all that was return and die in flourish
The harmony fades and disappears in like finality
Time passes as all know it inevitably will
And every so often, the tune returns from unfamiliar memory
Bringing with it that heavy heart and sad sweet tear
We remember it well, ourselves, our love and we pause, smiling
Copyright © reprobate
And what of ourselves? The clock is an unfeeling and uncaring bastard. It will have it's way, our wants, our dreams, anything and anyone we care for is ignored and cast out along the way...
SHE DESERVED BETTER
Alone in a dim, silent room, i pace around
An occasional stir or cough the only sound
A sweet smell of sterile is almost too much
Clean and crisp seem offended by my touch
Is this how it is going to be for both of us
To celebrate our lives so quiet without fuss
I really want to wake you but I don't dare
I'll keep waiting here with my vacant stare
We had it all throughout these many years
There was sun, and rain; laughs, and tears
Remembering how it was, way back when
Can't help questioning why 'this' is, then
Life was for living, so into tomorrow we slid
Every new day, that's exactly what we did
Did we do wrong, well, of course, we had
We were young, fearless, really quite mad
Not a care to be found, none ever bought
Yes, we were immortal, or so we thought
It was just a game to play, for you and me
Winner laughs last, no rules, we were free
How could you leave me, I'm older than you
You are but a child compared to me, it's true
And you are taking something I held so near
From the day we met, it was yours, my dear
In shadowed silence with tears painting my face
Will you please wake so we can leave this place
I always have and still to this day, love only you
Don't you know we still have lots of living to do
Sadly, I'm trying to figure out what went wrong
You're lying there and I can tell it won't be long
Heard the nurse say that sound is Death's Rattle
I guess you're very tired of this despicable battle
My musings are interrupted with much disgust
They keep coming in here to fiddle and adjust
You're leaving me now, this much is known
Here I am, crying; I was, always, yours alone
Yours alone and you're leaving like it's nothing
Still I wish I could take away all your suffering
Nothing for the ugliness eating you from inside
And nothing for the pain of how you finally died
Gazing at the face I had loved for eons untold
Your tiny hand in mine, limp and so horribly cold
For us to part this way, seems I'll never know why
I lean in for one last kiss, goodbye, my Love. Goodbye.
A reminder of how short time allows us.
I know you're there, in the detested silence
I recognize you, your oppressive presence
I can see your face, even with eyes closed
Feel your greasy grabbing hands clutching
Yes, I realize you're always there
Seemingly hiding, yet ever present
I'm exceedingly tired of the charade
I am certainly able to detect your existence
That sickening sensation in each passing day
Utterly unappreciated and vehemently unwanted
I've beheld that malevolent face
Looming like some horrid specter
Emotionless yet disturbingly smug
Your avaricious hands keep dragging me
Pulling me where I have no desire to go
Can't you understand, I just want to stay
Yeah, I'm aware you're there,I can sense it
And certainly you must know you're despised
Oh, I know what it takes to get out of this prison
But you don't care anyway, you're just a clock.
Copyright © reprobate
That's enough for now. Let me know what you think. Good, bad or indifferent, please be intelligent about it. There's enough stupidity in the world as it is. Thanks!