Oppressors do not feel as they should while the oppressed feel as they do .
The wicked bathe in glee, as their victims suffer.
Apathy spawns, do unto others as you want, but do not do unto me as you want.
Emptiness is the treasure for trying to steal happiness.
Selfish are blind to beauty.
Vindictiveness grows like the cancer it is, while life should grow with love.
Pettiness is the substance of nothingness, many abide abundant nothingness.
Goodness of the heart must defend from within
Growing up recent events reminded me of the Georgie Porgie Poem, not sure what the orginal Georgie Porgie was all about, but my rendition seems to be up to date.
Rain on grass and concrete
Georgie Porgie with a gun
pow, dead black mans son
Raining on grass
Man with gun
dead mans son
Vast room chairs
full of empty minds
all so blind
Take all radioactive waste
to just the right place
May I suggest Washington DC
For dost matter little to me
so to Mongolia it must go
for they do not know
never in my yard nor next to me
so far away tis to be
out of sight out of mind
in your yard… not mine
Send it to the moon, I say
get that waste out of my way
Late Winter Drizzle
beauty to behold
moisture on my hair
Twists and turns make the path hard and long
In the shadows things not seen, nor feel they belong
Little sounds, loud noises stop us in our tracks
move on, climb over logs that bar the way
keep on moving, I say
move brush aside that would slap our face
we must continue with our constant pace
Stay the path, or lost we will be
When we get to the end only then will we see