The Golden Edge
The Standard on which Glory Rests
Behind the edge, was a Test
Grit, Toil, and great Unrest
We rendered our Best
Seeking a Victor’s Quest
May the gifts we give be Luminesced
To tech, or not to tech, that is the question:
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind of the receiver
to be the holder of a letter written by hand.
Or perhaps by email, IM, or text?
Bad penmanship, missing words, and corrupt sentences
Could mean a Sea of troubles.
But so to the callousness of an artificial intelligence
with added Smileys and other silly picturesqueness.
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of life
The Oppressor’s wrong
The pang of despised love
Better in Facebook, LinkedIn, or Twitter?
Thus Conscience does make cowards of us all.
However the undiscovered Country
No Traveler could describe better
with Google Earth and a Blogging letter.
To grunt and sweat under a weary life
In YouTube, Periscope, and Snapchat
So as to not lose the Action.
But then the dread of something we all know of
that forever makes us bear the ills we have.
Be all our sins remembered.
Growing up I always had to fight to get people to listen to me.
I lived under dirty labels and negative assumptions.
If I wanted to succeed, I couldn’t wait for the world to give it to me.
I spent my entire life pushing against the weight of those presumptions.
I had to be a warrior, I had to battle to be free.
I had to be the rocket fuel that got me off the ground.
I had to have enough artillery to go the final round.
Hidden from knowledge
the thoughts lay asleep
slumbering unencumbered, in the deep.
Bound by pursuit
of worldly gain,
the hard, jaded world did reign.
Out of the darkness
a wish was whispered.
The thoughts stirred
as they heard their name.
Awaken Hope! Arise Justice!
The jaded world began to tremble.
Love as wide as dragon’s wings
Freedom and Equality began to sing
The earth blossoms in their wake.
His hand-drawn cup
held his mother’s heart.
The rounded rim
filled to the brim
with love for him.
The soft curved handle,
to hold and guide.
on the shaded side.
The long gentle strokes
Green, the color of growth.
In the kitchen of every home
this art piece has a place of its own.
He held his mother’s heart
in his hand-drawn cup.
Something That Cannot Be Seen
Love, said the priest,
Involves things unseen.
Trust is required
Or this ceremony
Is all for nothing.
Don’t put your heart on the line
Or pledge allegiance
In front of the assembly
If you have No Faith
In Things Unseen.