White Flags Like Cigarette Butts Litter The Ground

1-



I was walking the long trail-



Immune to the bruises and scrapes

And swollen knee and elbow

I had blessed myself with

Two days before



The sun had yet to shine-



The late evening grew colder

With entrenchment of uphill grade

And the plod-plod of my feet

Seemed never ending



-In the same way it felt reminiscent

And extremely familiar



We have all walked this road before

Some by choice, by strength of will

Others; because the chill had come

And they had not contained enough warmth



I had been warm for years and years

Rekindling a fire of stability

And tranquility through struggle

But never with so remorse

That it kept me hindered permanantly



-I slept in a puddle of mud

And enjoyed it's healing transendence

-I swam across a lake of tears

Admiring the design of water upon me

I became so warm I sank into it

-Cringing from any frost or chill

That nipped or prodded at me



The long trail I walked

Leveled only if I kept my feet upon it



-I was distrusted

By those that previously had loved me

-Unfed

By those that had sustained me

-Turned away

By people who once comforted me

-Left astray

By those that once employed me



A helping hand

Always prodded me along

I was never completely broke

Never submerged too long

Always boyant-Head above dangerous waters-

Even if the help I received

Forced me further from where

I believed I belonged

-At least it was help



People cared, and that was good

My heart followed that logic

Even though the passions of my heart

Are very rarely logical



The thing that bothered me most

-Beyond the scope of my own form of suffrage-

Were the white towels

People threw into the road

-The road that begrudged them

Any confinement of ordinary life-

Like used cigarette butts

They lined the trails and streets

That they had once ran on as children

Feeling brave



The nettles and mosquitos of self-doubt

And the flies and bedbugs

Of insecurity

Allowed people to leave their betterment

-Their hope-Their wish for salvation-

Crumpled up on the ground

-In the form of a white towel

-Or rag-Left behind

For someone like myself to step over

-Feeling sadness for the treachery of the trail

As it too suffered the littered scars

Of those that could not fight on any longer.



2-



I understand now

The wisdom given to me years before

By a man that had slipped down into the cracks

-This poverty could inflict anyone

-And why not me?

I had never been good at saving money

The days that wore on in my good life

Were filled with recklessness and wastefulness

I had teetered by for many years

Scraping the mixing bowl of the lower middle-class



-But as the foundation shifted

Out from underneath the feet

Of that great economic majority

That held our society in place

I was one of the first I knew to take my place

In the soup kitchen line

-That reminded me of what that wise man had said

And kept me humbled in recollection

-Hand outstretched for bread-

That I was only human just like the rest

-Dependant on compassion from fellow man

And subject to humanities cruel forms of judgement,

Punishment- The gifts we give to each other

That are not requested, but cannot be returned

Or ignored- Only re-gifted for others suited to be judged.



3-



Reality kicks in at daybreak-



The sun appears out of thickets of fog

And illusions of buildings that will always stand

It's shards and blades cut sharp through

The delusions that cling to the night

-Ice-crusted Pixies melt

-Coyotes prey left torn empty and cast off

-The day birds awake-Cawing to each other

-The shrouded cloak and safety of darkness

Is ripped to shreds in a single moment

With baby-blue and pink from the east

Herding recessive hues further from

The sight and sound of awakened earth



OPEN and WELCOME signs appear

In storefront windows

-Delivery trucks with their hoardes

Of disposable merchandise arrive

-Ramps lowered-Boxes stacked-Dollies in motion



The freeway and the intersection

Become a bustle of passing cars

And obtrusive stares sounding out

Daily frustrations



-The concrete awakens, as well-br>
Becoming just a little colder

-Even as the sun falls upon it



-A hand reaches out from beneath a tarp

-A finger exposes a sleeping eye

To the new day just a little bit different

From all the others>
-Yep, it's the sun again

Scaring all those night spirits away

And letting the daylight haunts

Out of the shadows and into a reflection-

Bold, sun-charred reality-

Glare of daylight exposing our better face

-And if you don't like what you see

Where is the medicine?



4-



We are Plantersmen-



We bare sons and then we plant them

Head first into the ground

So neither darkness nor light can touch them



Daughters are the same-



We fill their eyes with sand

So the water can neither enter

Nor escape



But they all have sight in mind

That allows them to recollect

Tragedies and falsehoods existing

Far back beyond common time

-As the earth erodes

And the universe around it

Either extends, or envelops,

Or curves

-People plod along the same line of reason-

Survival is an afterthought in comparison

To an overwhelming chaos of their emotions

And emotive misguidance

-Rome did not rise or fall in a day-

-Ancient Egypt stagnated as slowly as

The Pyramids continued decay-





These ghosts still haunt us-



The desire of tyrants gone mad-
Either with or without the people's will



The expansion of armies

Forgotten and tossed away-br>
Either in victory or defeat



The need to breed and populate to such

An extreme we are overrun with each other-

Whether or not we have any plans

For how the earth or our children

Will cradle each other



Or, how either of them will cradle us-

Somewhere the last living soldier of a war

We pretend has nothing to do with us

Is sighing a final sigh

While his grandkin storm a tumult

Pull a trigger, release a pin, push a button

-And the cycle begins again and again

-When will it stop?- This denial of war

As forefather of each generations poverty



Do not tell me the two are not related

-A plow moves through a field

Planting seeds for next years harvest

-But only after the enemy has been driven away

-Or, is down the road selling food stamps for whiskey

-Wondering why Father has gone missing, and begging

For the long night to come.