I’ve posted these previously but thought they were especially relevant today.

#1

What’s left when rage has all but consumed you?
A tempest swathed in paper-thin shell
With a hoarse voice and lips cracked from grimace
A tattered soul fighting against the swell

For all our tomorrows that will not stay
Forcing itself through the door-frame crack
Against all fears, fierce winds blow as
We scramble for signs to put us on track

With gloom on the horizon and light drawing thin
We resist the quick and easy solution
Dangling, so tempting, right before our face
And knowing it’s only an illusion

We look past the sad and constant refrain
Where all sins are washed away with the rain

#2

I’ve had the same dream six nights in a row
Where thoughts spill out in a digital river
Across the pages of polished back-lit glass
That runs deeper hues as they quickly deliver

To the blind who choose to close their eyes
And hide in the shadows of our ancient towers
That were felled by the disease of neglect
Caused by acquiescence to frightful powers

Still my vision grows dimmer through time
While violent storms gather to enthrall
To shake our lives down to the foundations
Challenging society to stand tall

And yet the pillars weaken every day
Built on people not ready to repay

#3

Air whispers, like night breezing through the trees
Winding between the blue glow in homes
Catching a glimpse, just a flash that leads on
To the desolate gray where it roams

Crouching and lurking in shadows and nooks
Or brazenly flaunting a tightening grip
On the everyday, mundane, and vacant
Reminding victims with the crack of a whip

There’s so much turmoil and doubt hidden by
A veneer of utter tranquility
Can’t ever believe the protestations
Cloaked in absent deniability

Blind to your daily intention toward races
It’s all just talk, you’d never trade places

#4

The din and furor rise unabated
And the call for reason falls by the way
As willful ignorance becomes the norm
Pushing more innocents into the fray

When violence erupts from this mixture
Escalating passions are the excuse
But who are the victims in this sad play?
Caught in the crossfire that rantings produce

Insult piled on as holy pretenders
Righteous in their choruses of “amen”
Claiming moral superiority
As they disregard the wisdom of men

Each day that passes, the pitch grows higher
How soon before our dim hopes expire?