Tuesday Poetry: Humanity is Hurting

There’s an energy of hate
Pulsating through the world
And everyone blames someone else – 
The truth is – they hate themselves – 
They have no compassion because
They feel no self-compassion
They have no self-love – 
You can’t love anyone
Until you love yourself
And hating someone does not
Give you the right to hurt them – 
No one has the right to hurt anyone
So, stop hurting yourself and others

From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.

Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Holiday Whiskey & The Moon Smiles as Humanity Dies

Holiday Whiskey

Twas a night I can’t remember
The day and time are lost
I sat watching flickering lights
Sipping on a whiskey
Alone with those blinking colors
Alone with my own thoughts
This was my usual past time
During holiday nights

My mind began to wander and 
I recalled one Christmas
A memory smelling of death
A sudden tragedy
That never left my family
Even thirty years past
It looms over the holiday
Leaving an awful taste

My mind again did wander to
Another Christmas day
I was young and saw my father
As he beat my sister
The violence was not new in him
He had beat my mother
But never on a holiday
No holidays were good

If not domestic violence
My parents would argue
I remember all the bad times
The happy times were few
I sit watching flickering lights
Sipping on a whiskey
Alone with those blinking colors
Alone with my own thoughts

The Moon Smiles as Humanity Dies

This is the end
No more sunrises
No more stargazing
We’ve killed ourselves
Yet we go through the motions
We continue marching towards oblivion

Is this a simulation
When the clock counts down
Will we restart at the beginning
An explosion that reboots the universe
A continual time loop
Repeating until we get it right

Are we all depressed and suicidal
Because we know the end is here
Or is it the only way to motivate
Everyone to stand and fight
To fix what we’ve broken
To heal the planet before we kill her

Earth is dying
Humanity is dying
The stars and galaxies continue spinning
What will the Moon do when Earth dies
Who will remember the robot rovers of Mars
Who will remember us
Not the Moon

From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.

I am a Writer

I have been writing for almost fifteen years.  I really feel this is one of my strongest skills.  I believe I am good at many things.  When it comes to writing, I feel great.  Have I been professionally published?  No.  Have I sold lots of stories and made money from my writing?  Not really.  Have I self-published and sold a few to people who were not friends or family?  Kind of I guess.  It is not an easy market to jump into but I believe I have been writing long enough and have acquired enough knowledge and skill to really change the world through writing.

If you are reading this than I have already succeeded in one small way.  Who knew that was all it took?  It does not matter how much money one makes, or how many times one is published.  That is the business of writing, yes, but that is not what makes a great writer.  I can insert a couple of popular contemporary writers who are simply terrible.  I do not think this is the fault of the writer but more of the editor and the agent for not working to make the writing better.  That is the purpose of agents and editors, to make the story or book marketable and profitable.  That is all.

So, with the marketable/profitable angle, I am in no way successful.  From the artist perspective, I have made a small impact on a few people.  That is the purpose for any artist; to make people feel something.  It does not matter what it is if the person has some feeling from the artist’s work.  It could be anger, happiness, melancholy, ambivalence, whatever…  I recently realized this was, on a small scale, the purpose of human interaction.  We are here to make each other fell something.

People have spent centuries trying to discover what it all means.  I think the poets, painters, sculptures, writers, and any other artists are closer than anyone else.  The purpose of life is to create and to feel.  Unfortunately, everyone just wants to be numb and destroy everything.  Now more than ever does the world need painters and poets and any other artists.  Now more than ever does the world need to create and to feel.  It is in emotions that we are reminded of our humanity.  It is creation that brings out the best in everyone.  So, I write.

When I feel something strongly, I write.  When I cannot find the words, I write.  I do not always write about what has transpired but when I write something, when I create something, it brings out the best I have and makes me feel like I have a purpose.  While I don’t know what it is exactly, I have a divine life purpose.  I have a soul mission.  I have a reason for being and I think it involves writing.  Maybe most of you will not read this.  Maybe most of you in the world will ignore anything I can offer.  That will never stop me from writing because sometimes writing is the only thing I have.