Remember remember the ninth of November. For many this will be an extra chilling December. Times Square was silent. That should say enough. In this cauldron with a rolling boil violent ambition, a single spark can be rough. This bewilderment, this sudden loss for words. This peeling back to check beneath while being scared of what’s disturbed. This hoping to set a mind on things above like clouds – like birds. This sense of intense anger uncurbed. If someone is desperate enough and sick enough long enough, they may just say they’re willing to try an experimental treatment. And one side didn’t know that’s what defeat meant. One side said whatever it wanted, did whatever it flaunted, and focused on hinted corruption undaunted. The other kept up with the slam. Both sides taunted. Both sides saw the divide in stride but kept on going with fam. The struggle. The forgotten. The disenfranchised. The youth. The scholars with their polls determined to know the truth. The elderly. The veterans. The farmers. And the writers all stay up late trying to anticipate what the charmer will do with letter in hand. It better be grand, to truly be great. But, what does it look like and how do we cope? Some look for the closest exit. Some look for the rope. But the scope of this has its weight. And, now more than ever we need to come together. The world watches, the pendulum notches, and the crown now appears to have a bit more of an orange tinge than before. Melania will select schemes of splotches to replace Michelle’s taste and dreams as soon as the first squeak from the hinge on the door. We need to be us. We need to fight and cuss, but not with might or fuss, but with logic, labor, and love. There will be time to articulate. There is already speculation as to why. There will be rhyme to spark out late. But something’s coming, we can’t deny. At least Battle Born went Blue. At least we got YES on 2. Bandage wounds backstage before heading out from the tombs to the rooms and gardens of our lives. There are children now looking to us for hope. There are still animals we need to feed. There are still plenty of hugs that need to be given. Many goals that have been made mention of, for which still need to be striven. I’m not giving an explanation. I’m not living a level of hate. The Dow jones scared and flared for a world grim for being partially run by him, and only time will tell while we wait. Crazy things happen when people don’t feel heard. When they are scared, punching back blind against the rails. And yes love can be blind, but love never fails. Love never fails. Love never fails.


Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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