Reflect and Edit

I’ve tried to be more quiet.

Don’t laugh! It’s all quite true.

I try to hold my tongue at times

And let thoughts ponder and accrue.

 

But once I’m done, God help me,

I must here just confess,

You get the lot, spilled out like guts,

Uncensored written mess.

 

At times like these, I can’t conceive

Why I have ink in pen.

Reflect and maybe edit,

Before writing once again?

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Hidden Hearts

If hidden heart hides all it holds

And does not so reveal

Its measures of diversity

How may we start to heal?

 

For sexual, sensual, mindful ones

With intellect, emotion

Know that others are created so.

All else is such strange notion.

 

Multi-faceted we all are

And so it’s always been.

We understand in many ways,

That’s how in life we glean

 

The differences and what’s the same,

The choices we all make,

Enlightened by our natures

For God’s and Mankind’s sake.

 

The only fear then is you’ll find

That leaders and some others,

Deny their soul, their unworthiness,

Flaunting self to others

 

As upright, straight, responsible

And caring without sin.

Gie’s a break, you’re human.

Perfection cannot win

 

If viewed by others as corrupt

When history reveals

Little things you’ve said and done

Or gigantic big conceals.

 

We did not ask for leader

With belt of horse-hair bound.

Just honesty, integrity, frailty.

Can one such one be found?

 

In this way, so you may relate

And gather quite a base,

If what we see and what we get

Hides not another face.

 

For power sought for selfish ends,

We may have just forgotten

Suggests another aimless trend.

Intrinsically, they’re rotten.

 

So if you have some cash to spare

And want to create a party,

A gathering of followers

To press your point so smartly

 

Better still than politics,

Just hire a huge, big hall,

Invite, get drunk, reveal the warts.

We’ll all have such a ball.

 

Then in the light of fulsome day

We may not all be tricked

By class of one, not political,

Just a self-motivated prick.

 

At least, we then will all have had

At your expense and call

One night of mediocre recompense

Before being screwed against a wall

 

Of blank distrust, of hardened glare,

Of blind, blighted self-belief.

At least, well, I’m supposing,

That may give citizens some relief.

 

To know that if we put our cross

Next to your little name

And you become a big, fat loss,

We’ve only ourselves to blame.

 

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All Our Children

My news is filtered these days,

By choice.

I cannot hear it, listen directly,

My voice

Would be choked and broken by

Tears of despair,

So I receive it, relayed

From I know who, I know where.

Identical moments of difference

Repeated,

Once felt and imbued,

Knows all life is cheated

When mongers of evil

Grasp the horns of their ask

And wickedly skip

To fulfil their grim task.

Drowned in a flood of heartbreaking stories,

Portrayed by some media

Voyeuristically,

They glory

In visuals and depictions of hell

I have seen,

Can’t watch it, can’t listen.

I know what they mean.

One story, one picture

Is all that I need,

Imagination and empathy

The rest provides and will feed

The words that I hear

In my head to shout forth,

‘Is that all that matters?

Is this our real worth?

As humans, as beings,

As souls here for a while?

The best we can do?

Some weep as we smile.’

I can’t unimagine

All that I have seen.

I wish that I could.

Do you know what I mean?

That visions of hurting

And hell so alive

Would end with great loving

So all could survive

To reach out, support

All. We are but child,

No matter persuasion.

True children are mild.

Not always in action,

I’m not that naïve,

But, in heart, where with loving

All dreams can conceive

A home-loving family,

A hearth to play by,

A meal on the table,

A mother nearby,

A father to guard

And protect our intention,

To grow close together.

And dare I just mention

That nations, though living

With minds far apart,

Share familial love

That springs from the heart?

Our greatest confusion then,

Seems so to say,

That my family matters

Much more than do they.

Lies. Lies.

Terrible lies.

Those who purvey them,

Life must despise.

Look at a child,

Look into its soul,

Watch as they play,

Is this really our goal?

To end such small humans

Before they should grow

Into the enemy

We fear but don’t know?

I hate this with passion.

I hate that we hate.

I hate that compassion

Is left at the gate

Of battlefield’s anger

And greed and distrust.

If fighting there has to be,

Why then can’t we just

Send one small David

And one giant Goliath.

Let them sort it out

With stones and with malice,

If that’s in their hearts

Well, fix it that way,

But as for the rest,

We just want to play

With children around us

Their trust in sweet eyes,

To teach them to love

Not hate or despise

Another world brother

Because they don’t feel

Exactly as we do.

Get over it. Let’s heal

The wounds of division

With pens and with words,

With kindness and mercy,

Not weapons or swords

That pierce at the breast

Of parents all over

While children flee,

In terror, for cover.

Oh, Spirit, please help us

To look with new love

To defeat source of evil

With strength from above.

 

And then there were……

So they sat down, as friends to start,

To share a celebration,

Remembering, with thankfulness,

How God had saved their nation.

 

Friends to wine and dine together,

Tokens freely given,

Conversation took a turn,

One self so unforgiving.

 

Temptation’s path and distorted dreams

Had all his mind perverted.

His answer, shameless in its crime,

Betray friend, and truth subverted.

 

Thirteen there were till one arose

And, blessed, went on his way.

In coinage, took his lonely walk.

Two more would end his day.

 

One to garden for a kiss,

A final, sad farewell,

His part, a thankless task ordained.

A friend’s version of true hell.

 

Betrayal done and trust full killed,

His final journey called

To tree, to end his misery,

With tears and heart embroiled.

 

All parts we play, unseen sometimes,

Chosen for a reason.

Judas, sadly for himself,

Was called as man for season.

 

So twelve remained but for a while

Till other one departed,

In pain and then in glory’s smile,

Salvation so imparted.

 

Eleven now to claim the cause,

To carry spirit’s light

And journey far, with few possessions,

Into strange and wondrous night.

 

Remembering our saddest days,

Though filled with great vexation,

May, contrarily, be found

To hold great expectation.

 

Our numbers swell as hearts do tell

Of forgiveness not still-born

When Man is cruel and others weep,

New hope and life reborn.

 

Unlucky though thirteen appears

For just the reasons given,

Surely parts, when played as asked,

Still call all souls to heaven?

 

For such as we in bitter times

Hope gone, hell’s finger beckons,

Remember still we cannot judge

Only God can count and reckons

 

The worth of soul, the value weighed,

Not in feathers nor in gold

But in doing what’s appointed us,

No soul has then been sold.

 

‘Tis hope and light that show the way,

Is mighty in its splendour

And manifest in all who seek

In source and God’s own wonder.

 

All answers to our sad ailments,

Out terror filled alarm,

In trust and actions may we sit down

At table, no thought of harm.

 

So thirteen then will live again

Till figures crowd our eyes,

Hands reaching out, all roles owned,

Source, Life, God, satisfied.

 

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