The above-mentioned poem and pics were motivated by a day-trip to Myakka River State Park, outside Sarasota, Florida.
Originally, my early inclination was to post this as a stand-alone, abstract reaction to all the hate that’s been circulating around the country of late, but as luck would have it–at Leah’s urging–I walked along Sarasota’s Bayfront…
and discovered the 18th Annual Art Exhibit Celebrating Diversity and Inclusion.
Almost immediately, after walking through the exhibition, I realized that showcasing birds and preying reptiles was too esoteric in getting my message across.
And I knew I had to include a sampling of the thoughtful, amazing talent from local and international students…
who have found a way to express themselves both poetically and graphically in ways that astound me, and give me hope for the future of our planet.
50 panels are spread throughout a marine park setting frequented by families, dog-walkers, tourists, and boaters, etc.,
interacting among billboard-sized art.
Indeed, a captive audience for a captivating display of enlightenment that’s too good to ignore.
A stroll along the pier with seagulls, oh so near, that roost before they scare– then quick they take to air, for what it is they fear shall always disappear, because there’s nothing there, yet soon the boards are bare.
the Thanksgiving meal that takes days to prepare,
and the ease of slipping into a digestive coma
just from the aroma–
of roasted turkey, the stuffing, the cranberry relish,
and all the assortments designed to embellish.
But the moment our family sits down to feast the hunger takes over with no time to savor the melange of food flavors, and sooner than later, there’s none left to eat.
From too much rain to bother honoring the dead. I don’t give a shit. Those…NATO allies that I dread–
keep me bawlin’…
So I just did me some talking to my sons. And I said, “I didn’t like the way Dems got things done– Winning at the polls. Those…losses are falling on my head,
they keep fallin’…”
But there’s one thing…I know. The Blues they sent to beat me Just defeat me.
It won’t be long, Subpoenas now step up to greet me.
Democrats keep falling on my head. But that doesn’t mean the House will soon be turning Red. Winning’s not for me, ‘Cause, I’m never gonna stop the wave with complaining. I’ll cop a plea. It terrifies me.
It won’t be long ’till prison opens up to greet me.
Bad vibes keep falling on my head. But that’s just karma coming ‘round on me, I dread… Mueller’s got the key. ‘Cause, I’m never gonna stop the probe by complaining. I’ll drop a tweet,
’cause I’m President Cheat!
Thanks to Original Songwriters: Burt Bacharach / Hal David
While enjoying my morning breakfast, and catching up on some classic poetry, I decided on a mash-up, which seemed entirely appropriate at the moment.
Inspired by Oliver Wendell Holmes’ Old Ironsides*
So, eat my toasted bagel now!
Soon may I reach thru wrap.
‘Cause many a tooth awaits to chew
this morsel from the sack;
Inside, I whiffed the buttered carbs
And yearned the content’s nut;–
But the paper bag in my eager hand
Revealed a tear somewhat!
My meal, once hot from oven’s heat,
Which baked the risen dough,
Where yeast was bubbling through the mix,
And grains were ground. Ergo,
Constant kneading the rubb’ry mass
And proof the crusted skin,
The bagels of the batch shall rise–
The essence of a win!
Oh, woeful that my ragged bag
erodes against my touch;
Construction dooms my marv’lous meal,
And so, becomes my crutch;
Drops through the rip, my toasted roll
Damn every filthy crime!
And gift it to the trove of germs—
The goodness and the grime.