Twelve o’clock, the pumpkin
arrives — no chariot, no
prince, no peace. Camelot?
I hear the robust singing
fading in the rain, the cold,
dismal rain upon the parade.
It is slip, slip, slipping away
and we stare into the abyss
of what was, what could have
been but will be arrested
and detained. There is a time
for every purpose under heaven.
We pray for kairos while wander-
ing through chronos along the
waters of Babylon. We sigh deeply
in lamentation before taking up
nonviolent protestation once
again, always, again and again.

We made our way along the trail
from the condo out about a quarter
mile, two gimpy guys — me with
a “runner’s knee” according to
an MRI and the chocolate lab
with his arthritic elbow caused
by untreated dysplasia when he
was a puppy according to the
cat scan he had after two vets
thought he had cancer. I’m 72
and he’s 72 in my years. I’ve
thought of him as a son, but
he’s actually my brother. Occ-
asionally, he would make it for
the wash following the scent of
rabbits who proliferate because
the coyotes have moved to greener
pastures in the desert. I asked
him, “Well, bro, you want to
head back?” He looked at me
and followed my lead occasion-
ally making for the wash on the
way back only a bit more slowly
than on the way out.

In a very short period of time the majority of us Americans have become open, accepting, inclusive, affirming, caring — for each other and for the creation. This is near miraculous. In some sense it is inexplicable given human history.

There is the sprouting of life and hope through the barren crust of life as it has been lived. The vast majority of those who voted in the presidential election did so for the candidate who represented, however imperfectly, those great values. Unfortunately, the electoral college votes weren’t there for her in an, at least, questionable and tainted if not completely illegitimate election process. Progress has experienced a severe setback and the consequences may be dire. And therein is the rub for millions of the electorate.

Human history has been filled with tribalism, evidenced in blood and gore; it’s core value has been survival through dominance, persecution and the pursuit of power. Fear, unacknowledged and un-admitted, has instinctively led to fight. Flight has been seen as weakness.

In this, we are lower than the other animals. Theirs is an innocent instinct toward survival. Human instinct is not innocent. We know good from evil but ironically choose death over life in the quest for survival.

The result has been mayhem, carnage and slaughter. We have euphemistically termed such behavior as bravery and the bloody victories as glory (American exceptionalism is invariably framed in this way.), but it is what it is more often than not — bald-faced barbarism.

To be sure, we are living in “Amerika” as Dr. Thomas P. Eggebeen termed it in his powerful, post– election poem posted at this site. Tom is calling us out much as John the Baptist and Jesus did the religious and political authorities of their day and as Martin Luther King, Jr. did not so many years ago against contemporary principalities and powers. Tom’s prophetic words are an attention-director and serve as a wake-up call.

And at the same time, there does seem to be an awakening, however faint, in America to a different way, a better way, a just way, a compassionate way. This new way, upward way, the hi-way has been met with a sudden, but totally predictable, reaction of the old way, the downward way, the lo-way, the predictable way because it has been the dominant way for us humans to act.

As the story goes, when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was once asked what he would have left to do if civil rights were completely embraced, he replied that sin will always and ever pop-up here and there and his job would be to point to those places and we all know he took a prophetic, costly stand in opposition to the war in Vietnam.

And so, while the forces of fear strike out as they have in this presidential election following eight years of moving along the hi-way, let us trust that those who have seen what can be and the goodness it creates in the hearts of individuals and in our collective heart as a nation will follow the path of Jesus, Buddha, Lao Tzu, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr. and stand up in non-violent resistance and protest to the old way, the lo-way.

And for the sake of the continuation of that new day forged by the prophets of old and those who have shown us the hi-way, may those affirming human rights continue to embrace as sisters and brothers and may those affirming creation’s rights live in gratitude for God’s gift of nature as brothers and sisters in harmony with Brother Sun and Sister Moon and Mother Earth.

The whole darn thing still feels surreal …
But if Amerikan history tells a story, it well may be that
Obama and his 8 were the surrealist of all.

We’re a nation of Hardings and Hoovers.
We love the spiel of the Chamber of Commerce.
We believe in Capitalism.

Oh, and let’s not forget Coolidge.
And Reagan the smiling shit.
And then the Bushes.

This is who we really are.

A nation of sheep.
Who love to be fleeced and slaughtered.
If the killing hand belongs to the rich.

It’s our fate, says the poor.
And maybe I’ll be rich myself some day.
If I worship the Mammon God.

It’s a White Thang, for sure.
Racism to flavor the
Soup of hate.

But that hideous prosperity gospel has
Infected the Black Church, too.
With its hatred of LGBTs and Qs.

This is who we really are.

So let’s not be naive.
Quit being a deer in the headlights.
Jump outta the way and get ready.

For the fight of a lifetime.
For the ever-fight.
The task of opening doors.

Luther fought the good fight.
So did his namesake, MLK.
And so must we.

Because Amerika is what it is.
It ain’t what she used to be.
No, she is what she’s always been

Heil the Chamber of Commerce.
Come on Big Boy, grab us all in the privates.
We’re here for the taking.

This is what Amerika is.

It’s starting to happen — the
precipitous, palpable sky-high rise
in anxiety, apprehension, anger.

I read it in poems written yesterday,
delivered today:
spontaneity
of fear.

Inauguration day is near.
It is really going to happen.
What is really going to happen?

The unpredictable will become
predictable and whatever will
happen will be here

confirming the fear

or hoping once again,
that the dreaded anticipation
is worse
than the pain.

Passing me in the parking lot,
he stopped to tell me he just
broke a tooth above the crown.
“No, seriously, me, too,” I said
then asking if he had a dentist
because I had an appointment
at noon to have the permanent
put on. “No.” “I do. Two blocks
away. Let my dog in the back
seat and I’ll show you where
and then you can drive us back.”
We are about the same age. Teeth
break. He said, “You know we
are lucky to be vertical.” Later
I read a poem about a cat who
when it was time to die went
out into the cold at her own
choosing. I felt a little
jealous of the cat.

We’ve all had remorse for doing
so many stupid things,
but not all have had a Dutch Reformed
mother to reinforce and multiply the stings.
This anti-cupid would draw back her bow
and a plethora of arrows she would throw.
It’s been years since she died,
but her legacy lives on in the shots
to my punctured hide and wounded pride.
“Mommy Dearest, please give it a rest.
Not only am I your only son,
but, frankly, I was the best.
Like the age-group run I once won —
first place, the best, even if I,
in that bracket, was the only one.
So, mom, yes, maybe you could have done better
or maybe you gave it your best,
I forgive you, because as I was your only son,
you were my mother — yes, the best in your
bracket, the only one.”

The following was sent to me by a friend. He didn’t write it and there is no attribution, so I imagine it is something making the internet rounds of political progressives. I felt it was worth posting.

Also, on this national day of celebration for the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, and in light of the Hollow Man’s tweet regarding the civil rights icon Representative John Lewis, I must say that for all of his 6’3″ frame, the “illegitimate” president-elect couldn’t stand in John Lewis’ shadow.

“I listened as they called my President a Muslim.
I listened as they called him and his family a pack of monkeys.
I listened as they said he wasn’t born here.
I watched as they blocked every single path to progress that they could.
I saw the pictures of him as Hitler.
I watched them shut down the government and hurt the entire nation twice.
I watched them turn their backs on every opportunity to open worthwhile
dialog.
I watched them say that they would not even listen to any choice for Supreme
Court no matter who the nominee was.
I listened as they openly said that they will oppose him at every turn.
I watched as they did just that.
I listened.
I watched.
I paid attention.
Now, I’m being called on to be tolerant.
To move forward.
To denounce protesters.
To ‘Get over it.’
To accept this…
I will not.
I will do my part to make sure this great American mistake becomes the
embarrassing footnote of our history that it deserves to be.
I will do this as quickly as possible every chance I get.
I will do my part to limit the damage that this man can do to my country.
I will watch his every move and point out every single mistake and misdeed
in a loud and proud voice.
I will let you know in a loud voice every time this man backs away from a
promise he made to them.
Them. The people who voted for him.
The ones who sold their souls and prayed for him to win.
I will do this so that they never forget.
And they will hear me.
They will see it in my eyes when I look at them.
They will hear it in my voice when I talk to them.
They will know that I know who they are.
They will know that I know what they are.
Do not call for my tolerance. I’ve tolerated all I can.
Now it’s their turn to tolerate ridicule.
Be aware, make no mistake about it, every single thing that goes wrong in
our country from this day forward is now Trump’s fault just as much as they
thought it was Obama’s.
I find it unreasonable for them to expect from me what they were entirely
unwilling to give.”

It has become a cliché to say
“Stop the world; I want to get off,”
but such clichés may,
help provide some kind of trade-off.

With a super busy schedule —
work, kids, date night, exercise, too,
perhaps it’s time to seek the essential.
Instead of fifty kilometers, a 5K may do.

Don’t give up; it’s all good stuff.
It just needs a little moderation.
Yes, a little less huff and puff
to bring balance to your life’s great narration.

Then when the kids are gone and grown
leaving time to take that long run,
unfortunately, your knees will ache
and you can only moan
and barely get through a fun run.

But then, another cliché could be fine —
Tempus Fugit, seize the day.
Oh, life can be like such fine wine.
Not another cliché?

Really? Oh, what the heck!
Just don’t worry. It will all be okay.

Cold, rainy weather
helps fill desert aquifers
making tourists sad.