From ashes we rise 

until turned to dust and hope

to irritate eyes 

The satirists have

been sacked and sci fi writers 

put out to pasture 

They cut your war braids 

and choked off your fierce cries but

you'll have the last laugh 

The drum's cadence has

slowed from fevered call to arms

to graveside murmur 

In sway to a dream

that's been dead for decades you

kill any future 

A name nearly lost

suddenly surfaces and 

makes the past present 

Our scars like ancient 

footpaths tell only part of 

the story of life 

Awash and churning 

in darkening waters but

the lighthouse beckons 

The cage cares not for

your circumstances and feels 

only appetite 

The light strikes the skin

just right and speckles her arm,

countering freckles 

The highs and lows seem 

to get closer and closer 

until they flatline  

Twist words all you want 

but the truth can't be broken 

just bent for suckers 

You Stand paralyzed 

by the light that brings utter

lucidity in 

The bluest of blues

and the saddest of songs go 

hand in hand, always 

The blinking cursor 

is a curse but the cure is

to keep on typing 

Be tempestuous 

like Prospero's temper in

his zeal to shelter 

The birds have left the 

yard since the owner flew the

coop for Florida 

Relevant no more

life continues unobserved 

until the obit 

The Devil is at 

the crossroads again and it's

standing room only 

No sea legs for these

roiling waters so just keep

your hands on the rail 

Your wings have been smashed

but still you soar with a voice 

for the downtrodden   

They'll twist the words or 

knife until it suits their ends, but

all come to an end 

Another train rattling 

down the tracks heads south or some 

other unknown place

The dream so distant

no oasis in sight just 

half-glimpsed chimera 

The dam will not hold

with the multiplicity 

of your manmade cracks 

Click clack as fingers 

punch the keys looking for words

that tell a story 

The party is done

and the music stilled, still you

can hear an echo 

A parade rolls by 

a thousand miles away, but 

here only dull sky 

Bereft of tethers 

to hold fast the world's longing

fly free towards the sun 

A broken branch hangs

tenuously high above 

like Damocles' sword 

A jacket patched, worn,

and sun faded still gives its

wearer succor, warmth