Fall 2018

Fall 2018

The dark is what I hate most.
Unable to see I fumble lost.
Damp cool air
In the lair.
Most do not care.
Their thumbs move over
Maybe hover.
The keyboard
Oh Lord
There is death
Anywhere.
Still the petty care.
What to wear.
Want my steak rare.
You realize child
Even if you are mild
You are in harms way
Everyday.
Stop your thumbs.
Step over the bums.
Come with me
To be
A fighter
For righteousness
For loving kindness.
Burn the bullets.
Burn the bombs.
Let them in
Amidst the din
Just like your kin.

These words stumbled out. I know very little about poetry.
I have never liked fall. I try to appreciate the colors, but this year the fall is dull, grey green, dried up leaves. Nothing to like for me. My inner state matches nature this year. The air is cool and it is dark early. The wind blows all the time. And then there is senseless death. As if it isn't enough that people die of disease and accidents everyday. Someone has to make it worse.