I want to write poems to daybreak, to the light as it’s filtered through trees,

to birdcalls, to blossoms, cicadas in song, to the buzzing and flitting of bees. 

But life yanks me back to the dark side, where beastly thoughts eat up my brain, 

in headlines of kidnapping hoaxes, of killers, the war in Ukraine, 

oceans with sea beds like hot tubs, inflation and costs on the run,

the subterfuge sins of past leaders and the kinks of this president’s son.

Yes, I want to write about nature, how it nurtures and soothes me, but then

the nature of mankind does neither; it warps, and it tortures and bends,

turns beautiful thoughts into ugly, twists empathy into a crime,

defiling all reason, just questions remain, without any reason or rhyme

like:

Why books can be banned, but then no, never guns.

Why it’s wrong to say gay, but not thug.

Why artificial intelligence gets exalted and praised, 

yet fake news! is called out every day. 

Why skills learned in slavery matter – the hell? —

but black lives and their stories just don’t.

Why pro-life laws ratchet up tighter than tight, 

While child labor laws come all sorts of undone. 

Why tiktok trends show us societal truths; 

Climate change and vaccines they’re all lies.

Why celebrity weddings, divorces, and deaths 

mean more to our lives than our own. 

Why a Barbie doll’s life in a movie’s too woke, 

but real women’s rights are too wrong,

And domestic dark ages are special and sacred, 

and for better and worse, they’re just right.

Why it’s okay to cancel a beer and trans girl, 

but never a good ole boy’s song. 

And why you can’t pull a gun on a liquor store clerk

but you can on school kids when you’re in a small town.

Our minds are sickened and damaged, consumed

In the brain-eating amoeba we read

Like the kind that killed this week’s Georgia man–

still, quite rare, they assure, they’re agreed.

 

Why of course, then, and okay, for sure.