Archive for August, 2020

My Mistake

Posted: August 30, 2020 in Poetry
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It’s not like I planned it
Much of life is under handed
I didn’t really understand it.
And all of it demanded.
The rest of my life branded
My soul reprimanded
Heart and thoughts now commanded
Hope forever abandoned.

Not like I didn’t have a choice
When I needed it I lost my voice.
The true cost is not on the invoice
But everyone loves their toys.
There are those who will rejoice
Not just women or their boys
Their words thick and moist
It is the silence that destroys.

My Mistake
And I made it so long ago.
My Mistake
Took me this long to know.

Passions and hope and dreams
I made them all routine
Rather leave than make a scene
Hide behind another machine.
Standing tall and in between
Excuses and lies on a trampoline
Drinking cool-aid from a canteen
Pretending what I did wasn’t mean.

My Mistake
And I made it so long ago.
My Mistake
Took me this long to know.

White Man’s Big Mistake

Posted: August 15, 2020 in Opinions and Observations, projects
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Another installment in my “I Can Explain It To You” series. Here is a link for the first installment: https://midimike.com/2020/06/27/when-the-silent-majority-speaks-out-what-will-they-say/

Pounding of a Drum

Posted: August 7, 2020 in Poetry
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Summer sun setting on one hand
The winter moon rising on the other.
Watching as my father’s son
Is told of the loss of his brother.

Forces built up with only one end
And the end will always come.
More dreams lost than can be counted
Began with the Pounding of a Drum.

We can no longer make sense of the world.
We can’t protect loved ones,
It has begun
Hear the Pounding of the Drum.

There is no comprehension
No mere words could ever describe.
There is no excuse or reason
In a righteous man’s diatribe.

Left standing in a different world
So much life just swept away.
The worst pain is not physical
Like the memories from today.

We can no longer make sense of the world.
We can’t protect loved ones,
It had begun long ago it is true
The Pounding of the Drum now heard from Beirut.

Summer sun setting on one hand
The winter moon rising on the other.
Watching as my father’s son
Is told of the loss of his brother.

Forces built up with only one end
And the end will always come.
More dreams lost than can be counted
Began with the Pounding of a Drum.

© MSK 8-5-2020