Carved from their surroundings, 
Etched in moment stilled; 
Sewn upon the fields
Of other memories tilled,
In revelry are captured, 
Marooned within a crowd, 
Captives of a moment 
That only they’re allowed.

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When I was growing up a boy

The races all were known

By color that their skin evoked,

The shading and the tone.

The natives of America

Were known for their red skin,

The Asians from the Orient,

Their shade a yellow spin.

Hispanics every shade of brown,

And Africans were black,

And marauding Europeans were

White for pigment lacked.

None of course the color called,

‘Twas just a useful tool –

Pointed out the origins

Not meant as being cruel.

Offensive I found at the time

A simple child’s toy –

Crayola Crayons multi-pack

That brought so many joy.

For inside each and every box

A color wrapped and bound;

Labeled with the signature,

A crayon flesh was found. 

As a child, I found this strange

As everybody’s skin

Was flesh of equal quantity

Though many not my twin.

The crayon mimicked white man’s skin,

Not yellow, red or black –

As if the only flesh there was

Was that upon my back.

I doubt that crayon bears that name

Today as once it did,

But it disturbed me at the time

When I was just a kid.

Identifying people now

By color isn’t right,

But somehow through the changing times

I’m referenced yet as white.

So heretofore I call on you

To tag me with the hash –

No longer reference me as white

But simply Euro-trash.

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Cage Match

The cat is under some duress
For Rocky’s on his case;
Presently, as you can see,
He’s chewing on his face.
Walter’s making every move
To try and get away
But Rocky is tenaciously
Holding him at bay.
The snarling cat to no avail
Attempts to scooch and squirm,
But when the dog sits down on him
He’s held there pretty firm.
When Walter’s patience runs its course
He’ll then deploy his claws
And latch onto the dog’s big ears
Or hook them in his jaws.
Then the dog’s the noisy one,
He’ll whimper like a child
Admit defeat and run for cover,
His ears or nose defiled.
Exhausted from the grueling duel,
Each other’s strength they’ve sapped;
Another cage match at its end,
They both head for a nap.
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Our politicians placed in jobs,
A voice for common men;
To represent the interests of
The nation’s citizens.
But through the years here’s what they’ve done,
They’ve made their class elite;
Passing laws that common folks
Abide out in the streets.
In doing so, exempt themselves
From many laws they pass –
While you and I resigned to be
A somewhat lesser class.
The big ones are familiar to
The population’s whole –
They don’t contribute anything
To the SSA’s core role.
Recently exempted from
The health care act they passed –
The commoner participates
But they themselves not cast.
But many tiny incidents
Contribute to the growth
Of this elitist group of pols
I’ve come each year to loathe.

Back when FDR would head
Our nation when at war,
He rationed gas that we could buy,
Controlling what was poured.
Most could buy each week to use,
Three gallons for their car,
But who would be exempt from this?
The politician corps.
They could buy the gasoline
In quantities they wished;
Anytime and anywhere,
To them the gas was dished.
I don’t know how it came to be,
These servants of the free,
Manipulated common folks
With their hyperbole.
To feed from troughs of taxes paid
To them, the ruling class;
Creating aristocracy
Untouched by laws they pass.
The will that’s weak succumbs until
Integrity disrupts;
Perhaps it’s true, there’s truth in this -
That power does corrupt.
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Big Picture

Here we sit
Beneath the stars,
Specks of dust
In carbon jars.
Cosmic dots
Of newsprint ink,
Arrayed in atoms
Cast in sync.
Detritus scattered
Now congealed
In form and feature
Now revealed.
To live and breathe,
With earth align,
By accident
Or by design.
Specks of dust
Beneath the stars,
Here we sit
In carbon jars.
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Bound Up in Twine

When we first met
I pictured you
  Decades down the line:
In flowing skirt,
  Your hair bound up in twine.
Your eyes would sparkle
Just the same;
  For time would take no toll;
My empty heart
  Inside the rabbit hole.
Seated in 
An artist’s loft
  Surrounded by your work –
The sculptures
With your paintings and
  Your Mona Lisa smirk.
But visions of
The dreams I have
  Awaken with the dawn;
Between the vision
And the dream, 
  I wake and you are gone.
Perhaps you put
Your art away,
  Your palette and your paint
And settled like
So many do,
   Subdued by life’s restraint.
But when we loved
I pictured you
  Decades down the line:
In flowing skirt,
  Your hair bound up in twine. 
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It won't be long until the day
That humans don't exist;
At least not in their current form
Most scientists insist.
Evolutionary changes
Perhaps we’ll just  recede -
Mastodons to elephants
Or T-Rex turned to weed.
Imagination wanders,
To how the world looks
A thousand years in passing,
Reviewing history books.  
While fatalists surrender
To dreamers at the gate,
We pedal ever faster
Racing toward this fate.
Oddly featured humans
Adapted from our genes
Or relics in a quarry
Where dust and bones convene.
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Bell Curve

She was tall
And she was lean
Freckled with
The Irish gene.

Quick to smile
Quick to laugh
At thirty-one
She joined my staff

For a decade
Side by side
Up and down
On every ride

A melody
Upon the staff
In the end
A Bell Curve graph

Books and movies
Songs and verse
Start and end
It's nature's curse

And that was that
The whole in half
No more freckles
No more laugh
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Country Roads

Travelin’ dusty byways,
Ridin’ shotgun in a car
Cruisin’ past the farmland
Stretching near and far,
Blue sky frames the vistas
As far as you can see;
There’s no place in the world
A fella’d rather be.

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On a bluff in California,
A tidal pool below,
Naked people frolicked
On drifting sand like snow.

We watched the sunshine gather
And kiss the unchained souls
Whose freedom of expression
Discarded weary roles.

Unfettered from the consequence,
We answered freedom’s call
To dance among the sagebrush found,
In sand our names would scrawl.

Beneath the glare of sunshine found
Abundant at the shore,
We shared the secrets lovers know,
Transformed forever more.

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