Sunday, December 8, 2013

Poem: War On Christmas

War On Christmas
“It’s wartime on Christmas,” says the charlatan voice
Reveling in tantrums instead of godly rejoice
Each year like clockwork comes the passionate fury
The attack on what’s “holy” in their self-righteous glory

In a nation three-quarters Christian it is hard to conceive
As to who’s actually threat to exactly what to believe
Perpetuation of fraud lies at root of the frenzy
To whip up the masses, requires indignation aplenty

For where is the gospel in these preachers of lying?
Lacking of love holds intolerant plying
Demanding that all of the people must comply to their stricture
Unbending beliefs seem quite removed from the scripture
The populace shopping to capitalistic vulgarity
Where is the outcry to our moneyed depravity?
And all of the symbols from a pagan’s beginning
Since no origin in Jesus, is a Christmas tree sinning?

The truth is the message is meant to divide us with hate
The fake war on Christmas:  Deceive … Inculcate
It is all an illusion by the worst of the lot
The one thing assured; any God they’ve forgot

 Copyright SGW 2013/2016

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Nelson Mandela

I have always felt that it is somewhat excessive when we make a big deal out of the death of famous people. Plenty of "regular" people die every day, too, and many of them were good, caring, decent people who made a difference in the world that will be lasting and positive.

Today, though, Nelson Mandela, has passed and the world has lost something it has rarely held. Nelson Mandela had his flaws and warts, I am sure. However, we would all be hard-pressed to find many people who have lived a life that was so given to good works, noble causes and decency. Mandela sacrificed much of his own life and pleasure for a greater good. In doing so, he never seemed to succumb to hatred, loss of dignity or corruption of even the slightest bit. Hopefully, he has left a path for not only South Africans, but all of us, that shows how we should live with each other and treat each other.

There are few people from history who I genuinely consider heroic. Nelson Mandela was one of those people, and I am truly saddened by his passing because I miss knowing that I share this world with such a great person.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Poem: Red Molly

Red Molly (Red Molly)
Harmonious beauty from angelical sounds
The rhythmic flowing of the music astounds
Eyes closed in wonder as the notes cast their charm
Melodious ocean of these songbirds disarm

The healing vibrations breathe a life-giving force
A three-part performance is the stage and the source
Warming of spirit can be felt in their presence
For the purest of pleasures, represent the quintessence

The listener leaves nourished with remarkable calm
Sustained by the power of mellifluous balm
Which finds me next morning with this pad and this pen
Inspired to writing ‘til I hear them again

Copyright SGW 2013

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Poem: Fanatics

Fear takes its measure in infinite shaping
An ignorant basis there can be no escaping
Intolerant, fanatic, often religiously zealous
Cling to a panic that is fervently jealous

Limited thinking is the fabric it’s sown
Science discarded, fact-based reason disowned
Blindly accepting carnival barker’s lament
They preach as if righteous; somehow heavenly sent

They can only find comfort in what their mirrors reflect
Frightened by difference; twisted cause and effect

Racism bred from an uncertain dread
“Brown people coming and a black as our ‘head’”
Create boogeyman government to nourish their story
The more they can fear then the more to their glory

Twisted and tangled in deformity of view
The fear’s all they know, so they mindlessly do

Copyright SGW 2013

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Poem: Nothing


Clock ticks
Counting down windows of opportunity
Until the squeeze is felt
It pinches
And it leaves one with vanquished resolve

The aloneness is palpable
Any promise, but a lie’s nom de guerre
Eventually waking up
Taking in reflections
Seeing nothing
Nothing at all

Some clouds have no silver lining
They are dark, wide and threatening
And when the rains come
They’ve always come
The torrent never relents

Copyright SGW 2013

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Poem: Pocono Mountain Morning

Pocono Mountain Morning

Pocono Mountain morning
Heavy rain beats down on roof above
Brushing and splattering upon the green scenery on display

Watch droplets on the window
Listen to the pat, pat, pattering
Kayaks sit idly for now
Near the sweeping waters aroused by the storm

Breathe in the morning
Wetness all around purifies the world
And me

Others sleep
I’ll sit in this chair
Shifted to a window’s view
That’s what I do

Copyright SGW 2013

Friday, August 2, 2013

Poem: Counsel


Awash in emotions long-contained deep within
This perilous path must dig deep ‘neath the skin
The hiding in masks only serves to benumb
And parts need all parts to equate to the sum
Fear is the riddle ever twisting of thought
You’ve been found passing by what’s forever been sought
Where often the journey leaves indelible mark
The lessons of scars can be blessedly stark
Travel in circles, sometimes roads know no end
A map has been laid … and the world will amend
Answers yield questions too numerously given
The perfectly placed left subconsciously riven
The crossroads are met with a reckoning glance
Left yet unwritten – walk away or advance?

Copyright SGW 2013

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Khaled Hosseini: "And The Mountains Echoed"

This is not a review.  How could I presume to review Khaled Hosseini?  The author of "A Thousand Splendid Suns" and the classic "The Kite Runner," has now given the world "And The Mountains Echoed."

Whether the details of his previous stories remain whole or in part, the essence of Hosseini's work lingers.  It is alive and well again, in "And The Mountains Echoed," as he bring another tale centered around Afghanistan; a country for most of us that is nothing more than "the place where terrorists were and a lot violence remains."

Again, this is not a review; just some random thoughts I find myself holding after finishing reading the book only moments ago.  Hosseini's gift is the ability to bring to the pages extreme pains and hardships, yet blend in an unexplained peacefulness and serenity.  Then, in the tears of beautiful interweavings of life that yield promises that life has heart, hope and love, even within all the struggles, there is also the subtle, stubborn aching.

I loved "A Thousand Splendid Suns."  It is a story of incredible honesty.  It hurts and feels good at once.  As I cried my way through the final 50 or so pages, ultimately ending in a place of calm, sorrow, bitterness, warmth ... life, I am aware that it will be several days before I can even consider reading something else.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Poem: Storms


Storm on horizon is warning
Darkest of skylines now forming
Calm does not mask what soon beckons
Illy prepared will be reckoned

The heart, it can pulse through disaster
Rhythmic beat ever faster
But can hearts be alive acquiescing
To the death of the void coalescing

Wreckage is strewn all-surrounding
Listen for faintest of pounding
A mixture of living and dying
Spilled milk cares not for your crying

Copyright SGW 2012

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Poem: Dreaming of Mr. Rogers

Dreaming of Mr. Rogers

The story's from my youthful days
Recurring dream whose memory stays
Not bent of anger or violent mind
I more was mild and rather kind
The dream still lingers, is yet to fade
It's time I tell through poem laid

Of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood
His virtues clear and understood
The scene is set with common thread
The homespun den, the sweater red
With sneakers tied and smiling bright
Yet strangely see was late at night
A knocking door, his head had turned
Who could it be would soon be learned

A lion stood upon the rise
A flowing mane and fiercest eyes
And poor old Fred with panicked feel
No make believe, but lion's meal

Copyright SGW 2006

Footnote:   Based on an actual, recurring dream I had well into my twenties.  I know, I have a twisted side.

Monday, May 6, 2013

Poem: Tears


World leaves its imprint in many a fashion
Feeds on our longings, consumes of our passion
‘Nary a notice as to where it will spring
When least it’s expected, best expect anything

Man at the grocer’s is awash in full grief
Need to unburden yet can bear no relief
Son, thirty-eight, was just taken away
The heartbroken father left in shattered dismay

All we can offer is to listen and nod
When the man walks away I unmask my fa├žade
Shed me a tear and my voice loses power
These are the moments where emotion will flower

But tears come from places of often sunny condition
Where a heartfelt conviction writes a warm composition
Simple sent message from a dear, special friend
“Happy to have you in our lives” she’d extend

Eyes start to moisten with the love this conveys
Reminder to self:  Ample good’s on display

In these polar extremes lies the binding of living
Sometimes it’s taking and sometimes it’s giving
Hardship can break us to a point of demise
‘Til angels of mercy breathe new strength to arise

Tears have been shed for the better and worse
Life is a blessing and life is a curse
Life is the challenge of entangled emotion
Nothing is rooted, for life’s constant motion

Copyright SGW 2013

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Poem: Violence


A world of too much violence
Where impulse turns to rage
A world of too much violence
Of monsters left uncaged

Bombs will never win a struggle
Conflagration yields no prize
The coldness of a conscious choice
A choice of promised lies

The zealots planning mass destruction
A government hooked on drones
Madmen screaming “seas of fire”
Mindless hates intoned

Violence yielding more the same
Death reveals more death
Nothing’s gained for any cause
In ending just one breath

Too many guns; too many “tools”
A weaponized decay
Too many means to take more lives
The murderous bouquet

Enough, enough, this all must end
Build and not tear down
Stop the hate, stop this craze
The rage is all around

Riling frenzied, manic “flocks”
With words of hate and words of fear
The vitriolic platitudes
Breed anger most severe

Blood for blood and eye for eye
Ratchet up the storm
Rocks to guns to missiles launched
So death becomes a norm

Copyright SGW 2013


Boston, Manhattan.  Columbine, Aurora, Virginia Tech, Newtown, Tucson.  The West Bank, Baghdad, Aleppo, Yemen.  The Topeka abortion clinic, a podium where a speaker stands and arouses hate.  North Korea, Iran.

Nothing justifies a terrorist attack on innocent people.  The actions are evil and without any justification.  But drones, missile strikes, propping up dictators, and wars of choice kill indiscriminately, too, and breed more hate.  Some war is necessary; defense is a right.  But more balance – building schools, teaching democracy, farming assistance – these things cost less than bombs and shape people’s views in a better way than bombs and drones.

This nation’s gun craze does not in any way lead to acts of terror such as the World Trade Center, Oklahoma City and the Boston Marathon.  But they kill far more people in many other acts of terror and in daily , routine life.  They can, of course, serve the purpose of defending a home.  But far more often they kill innocent people.  They have a place for hunters and sportsmen, but not to the extent of the weapons escalation we are living with … without even the most basic and reasonable means of temperance.

All of these things are related because they are all acts that lead to amping up the violence.  One act or circumstance does not always lead to another.  Nothing justifies the end result of mass killings.  But they are all part of the same problem.

And it is ALWAYS the right  time to look for change.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Poem: Shepherd

(Dedicated to the thousands of children sexually abused and then betrayed again.)

A “keystone” as timeless as time might forget
Rituals formed by the years long since set
The shepherd’s high platform builds the virtuous mask
Bejeweled and berobed, in the worship he’d bask
Archaic the rules and the doctrinaire dance
Awash in the vastness of adoration’s expanse

The shepherd holds riches unimagined to know
But he will pray from above; wash some feet all for show
The money-held bounty would make any banker soon blush
All the gold and the silver kept in secret’s cold hush

His castle’s been fed by corruption and greed
The sins of the evils as foundational screed
With fraud of no limit by the crimes since amassed
Long been swept under rugs through the centuries passed

Neanderthal thinking from what’s best as extinct
A homophobe, anti-woman and a Dark Ages link

The monsters protected are the shepherd’s right hands
Obfuscation, eluding and a bullying brand
Children as wreckage left abused and destroyed
All the tools of destruction were too quickly deployed
Grave the transgressions laid ‘pon innocent victims
And from Lucifer’s scepter come the unholy dictums

No godly existence in this evil wrung deep
Mindlessly follow stand the shepherd’s blind sheep

Copyright SGW 2013

The sexual abuse of children is among the most vile and evil of crimes that can be committed.  Thousands of children were preyed on by priests in the Catholic Church.  Most will never get justice because the leadership of the Church, all the way to the Vatican, and Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI, thought it better to protect the wealth and power of the Church, than the children who most needed protection. 

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Poem: Shades


Calm sets in after the wintry storm’s wrath
A blanketing whiteness that impedes every path
In the bristling cold air moves a singular frame
While I sit in the warmth he will work all the same

Stories reported of the common event
A xenophobe’s ring of repeated lament
‘Round Freehold stoppings there’s a gathering mass
The Mexican workers standing anxious alas

Whether legal or less so is often unclear
The landscape and work crews they would to hope to adhere
Though people scream wildly of jobs they might steal
‘Nary a white man ‘mongst the group would reveal

These poor, decent people only seek daily bread
The venom from racists would be better unsaid
My immersion in thoughts of past dust bowls and decay
Leave me reflective of this man on this day

Call the man to me; crooked teeth, short but stout
Just a hard working spirit weathered inside and out
Hand him a ten-spot as the least I can do
He thanks me and smiles then he thanks me anew

Put in perspective of a national fight
Where some see the brown less deserving their rights
Remove them, contain them and brand with a stain
But they are us, we are them, we are all just the same

My walkway is shoveled and the man shuffles on
Illegal or legal, what this land’s built upon
We all trace our roots to migrations as such
Whatever the reasons, we’re alike much as much

Copyright SGW 2013

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Poem: Carrousel


She was always too busy claiming tasks to be done
Forever en route, endless errands to run
The juggler of missions, a servant of time
Life can be lost on this narrowing line

Excuses came plenty in her martyr’s brigade
The slave to a struggle who’s succumbed to what’s laid
Until eyes of impression are soon molded as well
The tree and its apples on the same carrousel

Too late to notice that you’re benumbed and immune
Cat’s in the cradle and the man in the moon
The children become what the mother has crafted
An appendage of labors has been too firmly grafted

Try to break in to break up the routine
But freedom of leisure only viewed as obscene
Imagination can’t flourish where every minute’s imposed
Where’s the freedom to dream or just wiggle one’s toes

Cat’s in the cradle and the man in the moon
Here’s to who’d craft of a less-perfect hewn

Copyright SGW 2013

Footnote:  Obvious reference to Harry Chapin’s “Cats in the Cradle.”

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Poem: Different Words

Different Words

Bullies have terrorized a country
Torn at all rational thought
Through combination of varietal methods
A destructive regression they’ve sought

Quietly succumbing in measure
Would be nice if were met with in-kind
But in the face of extremist departure
We must call out the worst that we’d find

Where racism, hatred and bigotry
Use actions and words as a voice
Naming them such is the battle
Must be waged without question or choice

Homophobic, anti-female or immigrant bashers
Elementally these are people to fight
And calling them out is not equal
It is morally given and right

When you say rape can’t impregnate a woman
Or you’d drive off economy’s cliff
While you insist that Obama’s a Kenyan
You’re a loon with no but, and or if

As a grouping of people go crazy
Irrational and of vilest of mind
The damage they do to the nation
Requires the bright light be shined

Calling them what they exhibit
Whether racist or nutjob or fool
Exposes their regressive obstruction
And provides them deserved ridicule

Copyright SGW 2013

This poem is dedicated to the overwhelming majority of the Republican politicians in office or who have run for office since 2008, FOX “News,” most conservative talk radio, teabaggers, S.I.P.E., and the extremism that they have come to represent and display.  Fighting against this with vigor is a must.  If someone is a racist, fearmonger, bigot, homophobe, class oppressor, liar, or, well, fringe, lunatic, calling them by those names is not stooping to their level or “name-calling.”  It is using a necessary weapon to shine a light on their hate, shame them and make others understand how destructive they are.