Innocence Lost

Life experiences mold us into
Who we are – who we will become.
Challenges we face test & teach
Skills, tools to navigate through
Life with wisdom, strength, & 
Incendiary resilience, however 
Today is a different day…

THIS is a different world
As we witness drama & damage
Day after day – time after time.
We seem to have become numb,
Desensitized to senseless acts.

I grieve for today’s youth &
Generations future who’ll not
Be privy to know, feel, or
Understand what once was –
To live in a time of innocence. 

Scattered 

It’s been awhile since I’ve written any new blog posts or poetry.  I actually have several posts sitting in my draft queue,  yet I haven’t been able to focus on the minimal editing needed to make them publishable.  

I don’t think I’d label my recent hiatus as “writer’s block” though.  I’m somewhat scattered – the stories, words are there, but my mind, body, & soul have been on emotional & sensory overload due to the ongoing drama of current & recent events.  I’m exhausted – a feeling which extends far beyond the definition of the word.

As Hurricane Harvey began its angry approach upon Texas, I became fully absorbed, inundated with discomfort, anxiety, & fear for the safety of numerous friends who were forced to evacuate or remain in harms way.  It’s an awful feeling to be so invested, yet unable to actively help from afar. 

Without reprieve to rest or breathe after Harvey finally disappeared, other events unexpected (for me personally & otherwise) became daily taunts – testing our/my strength & resiliency to withstand yet another “calm before the storm” named Irma.  This bitch has trampled everything in her path towards & into the entire state of Florida.  However, this storm isn’t near finished… she wants more.  Both storms, plus a massive earthquake in Mexico have “succeeded” to make history & to make their catastrophic presence known around the world.

The fact I’m writing this essay with intent to publish it today is cathartic.  I’ve needed to purge this toxic anxiety & feel it’s time to reboot, recharge, & embrace the heartache.  Slowly, I’ll start to gather together the scattered thoughts & stories in my head & put into words on paper… it’s time to write.

Puppet master 

Like empty headed marionettes
We let the puppet master use us;
Manipulated creatures, mute like
Dummies & well trained playthings.

Oblivious to right or wrong, fact or
Fiction, we do not question the 
Infectious dogma instilled as daily 
Rhetoric – scripted, biased, & edited
Comically with muddied ideologies.

We find ourselves dumbfounded, 
Living an existence like no other –
Like ghosts in the machine who
Continue to drink the koolaide
Again…& again.

Except the willing players who now
Try to hide sham & shame by
Cutting, tucking still attached puppet strings out of sight, yet not out of mind.

Unable to save face from the farce,
They’re now left with the painful
Purpose to express false loyalty no better than the foolish choreographer who makes
Up the dance.

Artist: Rosa Maria Plana “somos marionetas?”