Every Passing Thought

Simple, fleeting moments in the mind
May 2012
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Breakfast

Posted By poets on January 23, 2012

I sit here staring at this banana
Starting to brown
Perfectly ripe
This banana is alive
It’s only reason for existence
Is my sustenance
It has given itself up entirely for me
I must be grateful.
I must be more like Him.

Enjoying each bite as I stare out the window
And watch the busy people
And cars race along like a river

Inside the building one walks briskly by
Pausing momentarily
In disapproval of my brief daydream
Causing me to wonder
What good is the window
If you never look out of it?
What good is your breakfast
If you do not taste it?
What good is your life
If you live in numbness?

Seeds

Posted By poets on January 11, 2012

Imagine there are three men, and each is given a packet of seeds by their good master. The master tells them “Go and make something of what I have given you.”

The first man plants his seeds in fertile soil, and meticulously maintains the ground – watering, weeding, fertilizing, etc. Before long the first sprouts come up and pretty soon he has a full and lush garden.

The second man scatters his seeds throughout the town. Rather than maintaining the ground – which would be impossible anyway, since the seeds were spread all over – he leaves the care and nurturing to the elements, saying to himself “If these seeds are meant to bear fruit, I trust that it will happen.” And he goes about his merry way.

The third man is in a state of confusion. He cares little about gardening and daydreams of what else he could do instead. He wonders why the master asked him to plant the seeds in the first place. He then stashes the seeds away in a drawer and soon forgets about them.

After awhile the master returns. He summons the three men and asks them what they have made of the seeds they were given. The first man explains how he had planted the seeds in the fertile soil, how he had maintained the grounds and how he now had a lush and beautiful garden. The master was greatly pleased and as a reward granted the man a third of his land to keep as his own.

The second man explained how he had spread the seeds across the whole of the land and how he had figured that if the plants were meant to grow they would and the land would grow more beautiful where it was meant to be. He, of course, had nothing to show because he could not remember particularly where the seeds had been cast, and even if he could, he would be unable to decipher what natural growth was a result of his casting and what was intended to begin with, regardless of his contribution.

The master frowned and said “You are a stupid and lazy man. I am already aware of what nature is capable of producing and also understand that it does not need your input. To cure you of your laziness, from now on you will be responsible for maintaining the grounds of all the land.”

Finally the master came to third man. “Now what have you produced with the seeds I have given you?” The third man explained that he was not a gardener and wasn’t sure how the seeds were to be used and therefor had put them in a drawer and forgotten about them.

The master was livid. “You are too foolish to live!” He shouted. “The other two men were equal to you in knowledge and at least had the good sense to put their seeds in the ground! What could you possibly have expected to make of the seeds tucked away in your drawer? You have made nothing out of something!” And with that the master cast the foolish man off the land where he was never permitted to return.

What does the Casey Anthony verdict really mean?

Posted By poets on July 6, 2011

You have to understand that the news/media makes it’s own bed of controversy (and sleeps there quite comfortably). They present to you, without the constraints of evidence or objectivity, the side of the story that gets the most reaction. It is …purely entertainment based.

In the case of Casey and Caylee Anthony it is an unbelievable story about a negligent, unequipped mother who conceivably murders her daughter so she can return to the glory days of an untethered life. Now it appears that she has “gotten away with it” which is EVEN MORE unbelievable than the original story itself. This is GREAT news for the media because now they get to ask all kinds of questions that don’t really have anything to do with justice (objective, impersonal analysis of evidence), but better yet our own vulnerability and faith in justice (which is subjective and personal).

  • “How could this happen?”
  • “Does our justice system work?”
  • “Can one get away with murder?”

The funny thing is that not one of these questions is at all new. Humans have pondered these things our entire existence. And so, unfortunately for many the next several months, years, decades will be spent analyzing the merits of our judicial system rather than the credibility and motivation of our news sources. After all, would Nancy Grace steer us wrong?

What makes Caylee Anthony “stand out” from other child murder victims (whose parent is the main suspect) is simply the media attention that the case has received and will continue to receive. It doesn’t mean that her life or death was/is more significant than the life and death of any child, whether that child is murdered or not. It just means that this particular story, for whatever reason, captured the attention of news/media audiences across the country and so it is necessary for the for-profit organizations that compete for viewer & reader attention to present this material in order to stay viable a fierce marketplace.

In other words, it’s our own collective appetite for this type of content that allows these types of stories to get the attention they receive. Is that a good thing or bad thing? I think it’s just a matter of preference. Some people like to watch real-life courtroom dramas in the same way people like to watch sporting events or “Survivor”.

Prayer Position

Posted By poets on May 19, 2011

To assume the pose
Of kneeling beside the bed
With hands folded
And head bowed down
Does not the prayer make
But if it is the position
The body must take
To create the space within
For which the prayer may emanate
Then let it be done.

Security

Posted By poets on April 20, 2011

We are not flawed
We are mere subjects
To self-imposed
And selectively enforced
Regulations

We desire others to play
Within the boundaries
We define
For ourselves

Draw the lines
Enforce the lines
Cross the lines
Blur the lines
And remain confined
To our own limits
Of understanding

Sheltered children
Frightened children
Clutching tightly to the…
Nipple
Pacifier
Blanket
Stuffed bunny
Ball
Diary
Girlfriend
Job
Car
House
401k
Cherrywood casket

Media

Posted By poets on April 19, 2011

Hiding behind headphones
Profile pics
And little snippets of life
Playfully portrayed
In one-hundred and forty characters.

The Lions watch the harmless musings
Appearing as the black mane of a lost zebra
Who pauses to sip from the isolated pond.

Hungry to dine on our happenings
To sell and resell our likes and dislikes.

More telling than our records
More binding than our signature
More valuable to the calculating misers
Who would tie you to your name
So their books remain in the black
At year’s end.

The Material Makeup of the Exoskeleton

Posted By poets on April 19, 2011

Logging back in
Checking for something new
A new post
A funny comment
A video
Article
Photograph
Confirming what I already believe
Cementing me
More firmly
In this position
I have held since childhood
Or at least college
When my concept of self was first formed
Bronzed
Then shatter-proofed.

136 friends
1000 followers
Mostly multi-level marketers
Sharing bad advice
With each other
Because we all understand the numbers
Save for the one who buys
Excessively
Friendly to all but a friend of none
Instead subject to the disdain
Of the online retailers
Who boldly exploit her superficiality
Label her greedy, confused, obese
To justify the robbery
We all accept as business.

Quiet Office

Posted By poets on April 19, 2011

It’s quiet
Except for the typing
And clicking
And tapping
And nail-biting
Occasional coughing
Then a sneeze
Followed by a “bless you”
Followed by a “thank you”.

A little bell rings
At the front desk
“May I help you”
“Just dropping this off”
“Okay, thank you”
Door closing
Feet stepping down the first few stairs
Quiet again.

A Cold Baseball Game

Posted By poets on April 19, 2011

I’ve never been to a cold baseball game
He tells the vendor
Who politely chuckles
And graciously accepts the dollar tip
Then moves upward along the steps.

He casually tells his acquaintance
Of the woman he knows
Or met once at a party
Who is employed by the NBA
And offers herself to the travelling squad
I assume in exchange for some type of security
She is unlikely to find
Through such endeavors.

A string of profanity is soon followed
By the scent of beer
Spilled on the concrete steps
That anchor the rows of seats.

Two rows in front
She picks up her purse
Soaked along the bottom
Glaring up at a thousand faces
She seeks the source
Of this mild atrocity.

A low restless rumble
Penetrates the crowd
Ball four
Looked like it caught the plate.

Entropy

Posted By poets on April 18, 2011

“No no no!” she screams
At the top of her lungs
With the baseball game on in the background
And the dishwasher running
And her little brother
Dumping all the crayons out
Onto the floor.

“Stop it I said!”
In a pitch I could never reach
In my old age
Of thirty-one.

“He’s dumping out the crayons!”
She finally offers up an explanation
For the disorder she witnesses
As she maintains a steady bounce
Using the couch
As a trampoline.