for fools that use their
god to embrace and celebrate
poison hearts growling with
dark, devouring desire,
there can be no peace.
kat ~ 24 September 2016
(Using Magnetic Poetry’s Poet Kit)
This week’s entry for Elusive Trope of Specks and Fragments. I pieced my poem before checking out the challenge. There must be something in the air… 😊 peace everyone!
Happy Friday! I am beginning to think that Dictionary.com has a thing for posting politically charged words on Fridays. This week’s word is Plutocracy. Originating from the Greek, plutocracy is one of those combination words with ploûtos meaning “wealth” and krátos meaning “rule, strength, might”. The English started using this word in the mid-1600’s.
I don’t know about you, but I am weary of politics. I console myself into thinking it will finally be over in a matter of months. But I am only fooling myself. It won’t be over. Regardless of who wins our U.S. election, there will be hell to pay to the losers who will most certainly protest, revolt, dig their heals in, obstruct progress, or worse. I don’t even want to think about it.
Me? Once I cast my vote this November, I plan on crawling under a rock somewhere, or finding a secluded neutral island where I can hide away until the after-blast settles.
And I will wonder as I always do, if my vote really mattered. “Of course it does,” the talking heads tell us. But the talking heads are owned by the very rich who pay for the campaigns of the candidates who they count on to pass laws that afford them eminent domain, special favors and deregulation. Which is not a good thing for us rock dwellers. I kinda like that we have pristine national forests. I am especially grateful knowing that the fruit in my salad has been regulated to rule out e-coli and the like, and that the products that I purchase are held to standards that make them safe to use. But hey, that’s just me. So whether it matters or not, I vote. It’s the principle of the thing.
Some people say we are already a plutocracy, but I hold onto the hope that there are still enough of us average work-a-day paycheck to paycheck folks to tip the scales. Yes, I still hope.
And so we come to another political word of the day from our friends at dictionary.com. Here is my haiku…it’s more of a lesson learned…a word to the wise, that sort of thing. and I am passing it on…cause “trickling down” never did and still doesn’t work.
Plutocracy
Plutocrats will say,
“Give us more, we’ll share with you.”
Plutocrats don’t share.kat ~ 23 September 2016
the sweetest of
all ancient secrets
can be known
but only by pure
souls willing
to behold the
harmony between
deepest dark
and brightest light
~kat – 22 September 2016
(from Magnetic Poetry Online’s Nature Kit)
Photo by Wolf Schram
“You aint from ‘round here are ya’ mister?” that’s what I said to him when he pulled up to the curb there and got out of that yellow chevy of his.
He says to me, “No bub, I’m not, but here take these,” and he hands me the keys, gives me a wink, and says, “take good care of her will ya?” like I’m some car park valet or somethin’.
So anyhow, I jest been sitting here waitin’, takin’ care of his old classic, even polished her up for him while I been waitin’, but it’s been over a week an’ I’m startin’ to wonder if that feller is comin’ back or if I jest got me a new damn car!
~kat – 22 September 2016
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A Three Line Tale for Sonya of Only 100 Words based on this cool photograph by Wolf Schram.
Of course I knew that there’d be pain
from others who had gone before,
nightmarish tales of blood and gore,
but never did one soul refrain
from telling me that I’d forget
the horror of it all and yet,
as each unpleasant milestone came…
the morning ick, the evening swell,
the doubt that I’d survive this hell,
the wondering if I’d regain
my waist, as my expanding girth
prepared my body for your birth.
I swore never, never again
should I in fact from this survive,
my predecessors surely lied
and you may think that I’m insane
but I can tell you it is true,
I did forget, when I met you.
kat- 21 September 2016
For Jane Dougherty’s Poetry Challenge: to write a poem about pain using words to channel it into something beautiful, with this rhyme pattern: abb acc add aee … I chose one of my own photos rather than the one provided – dedicating this one to my daughters. 🙂
like mercury colliding... 