Lies Bind the Minds

Commonplace in politics are whispers and lies,
A pattern emerges, where truth often dies.
Deceitful tongues, and cunning minds,
Weave webs of tales that leave us blind.

When fear takes hold, in times unsure,
The people seek a voice, a cure.
In steps a leader, bold and loud,
With words that stir the fearful crowd.

A metaphor spoken, a tale is spun,
Creating enemies, where once were none.
The minds of men, in fear unwise,
Consume the lies, and soon despise.

Rapist, criminals, thieves of your nest-egg,
Dehumanizing words, a vicious plague.
Whispered in ears, with fearsome might,
They fuel the flames of endless night.

These tales of woe, deceit, and dread,
Infect the mind, and soon are spread.
The lies, repeated, brain pathways form,
Resistant to the truth, they storm.

In fear and hatred, people march,
Their minds controlled, their hearts so dark.
Divided nation, a weakening core,
As lies and whispers wage their war.

As lies persist, the web ensnares,
A nation's heart, in deep despair.
A leader's voice, with cunning art,
Weaves tales that pull the soul apart.

A rigged election, a deceitful claim,
A lie repeated, a toxic game.
The faithful followers, their minds astray,
In darkness dwell, with truth at bay.

For some, the lies are easy prey,
Their minds receptive, fear's in play.
A hoax believed, a path well-worn,
Their thoughts enslaved; their senses torn.

Yet others see, with clearer sight,
The falsehoods cloaked in fake delight.
Their brains, untrained. Lies, they resist.
Truth and reason, they insist.

But history shows, with gentle hand,
That lies and darkness cannot stand.
When tyranny's reign is brought to light,
The truth shall triumph, shining bright.

But it takes a disruptive force, a jarring spark,
To wake the minds held in the dark.
And though the path to change is steep,
The soul of truth shall never sleep.

For in the end, the lies will fall,
As tyrants tremble, truths enthrall.
And though the journey may be long,
Our hearts beat strong, with hope and song.

So guard your thoughts. Be wary, friends,
Of leaders wielding poisonous pens.
For in their words, a power lies,
To cloud our minds and beat down our will to compromise.

Maga Meaning

Maga, a word of evil meanings,
From white supremacy sought to schemes unseen.
A dream for some, a con for others,
A symbol worn by sisters and brothers.

In America, it's Trump's refrain,
A call to bring back the past exclusionary game.
But maga is a Nigerian word that tells a different story,
It is a mark of shame, not of glory.

Maga means "I'm a fool, taken by a hoax or fraud."
Wearing a hat with that name on it is perplexing and quite odd.
In Japanese, maga means, "I am evil,
A worshipper of the devil."

In Latin, maga means witch, sorceress, wizard, magician.
To wear this name on your forehead means you are a brainwashed son of perdition.
Maga is a call to Satan for calamity and disaster,
Mindless sublimation to the whim of a master.

So why would one choose to wear this sign,
To proudly display this ungodly design?
Perhaps it's just blind faith at play,
But maga means, "I am the prey."

Whatever the reason, it's clear to see,
The power of words and what they call to be.
For maga's meaning is all too clear,
A symbol of hate, violence, and fear.

Chameleon Candidate

There once was a man named Trump
Whose views seemed quite often to jump
From left to right, then back again
Depending on where the cash came in.

As each billionaire would crossed his path
Trump's views took a bubble bath.
In Trump's mind, a new philosophy
Was born with each new billionaire's fee.

A donor who loved a border wall
Would find Trump suddenly enthralled.
While one who favored free trade deals
Would watch Trump's views begin to wheel.

A hawk on war, or dove of peace
Trump's views would shift with much release.
As each new donor came his way,
His stance would change, with no delay.

Cryptocurrencies, once did he loathe,
But with donations from Bitcoin Baily and the Winklevoss' he sung a different oath.
Anheuser-Busch beer, first to blame,
Then after this company donated, Trump's tune changed.

Trump's loyalty, it would seem,
Depended on whose money donated to his team.
Electric cars, at first, he mocked,
After Elon Musk donated, his opinion quite unlocked.

With Peter Thiel's donation, Trump's choice for Arizona's Senate race
Seemed to shift at a blistering pace.
After Thiel's donation, Trump's Vice Presidential pick evolved too,
Amidst a political hullabaloo.

As his donations fluctuated, so did his opinions turn with the tide,
He was a bought man, his thoughts turned with the bribe.
Each issue a new chance to shape
His views, an ever-changing drape.

Rather than drain the swamp, he dug deeper in.
He was never for the people, only for himself, the election, he tried to win.
He did not care who he dragged with him into the much and mire.
He didn't care who knew he was a man for hire.

He was a slave to the billionaires he owed,
And duped all the people that followed.
He was the ultimate con man, a pathological liar.
He didn't care if he set America and its Constitution on fire.

So many people he did deceive,
And even had the Christian Church believe
That he was a man God sent,
While he was only a man hell bent.

So what did Trump truly believe?
It seemed his views were but a sleeve
Worn to please each billionaire's whim
A chameleon, through and through, was him.

The Dangers of Church/State Union

When Church and State in wedlock lie,
A dark and treacherous path draws nigh.
For power and faith, in one hand clenched,
The rights of many, soon are quenched.

The Church, once a beacon, of love and light,
Loses her radiance, in the state's fierce might.
No longer guided, by a compass true,
The path grows dim, in a power askew.

As State embraces, religion's dress,
A tangled web, begins to press.
Freedom of faith, succumbs to force,
A nation's soul, then loses course.

The voice of State, with Church entwined,
Wields faith as weapon, to control the mind.
No longer neutral, in matters of creed,
Divisions deepen, as the people bleed.

The dangers of union, a tale to heed,
When Church and State, together lead.
For in their dance, a nation frays,
Let wisdom guide, in separating ways.

Mob’s Choice

A mob gathered around the seat of Pilate in days of old,
They had to make a choice and this crowd rolled.
"Give us Barabbas!" they cried aloud,
"Crucify Jesus!" echoed the crowd.

The leaders of faith, in that long-gone day,
Chose a murderer, and sent the Savior away.
A choice so grim, so hard to bear,
Love rejected, amidst despair.

Today, a new choice, again is made,
In the land of the free, where the brave have stayed.
Evangelicals rally, their voices raise,
"We want Trump!" they shout, in a modern-day maze.

Leaving behind the humble man of love, truth, and faith,
A man of pride, power, lies, and crime, they embrace.
As with the choice of Barabbas, and the rejection of love so near,
They repeat this error to appease their fear.

Oh, how history repeats, in its twisted way,
A mob decides, and the consequences weigh.
Yet hope remains, for a world so torn,
To find love and truth, in the Savior, through a life reborn.

The Choice of Leadership

When paths diverge, and choices made,
What qualities should our hearts persuade?
To follow one, who boasts and lies,
Or one whose truth, in humbleness lies?

The prideful liar, on high horse stands,
With golden tongue, he works his plans.
But beneath the shine, deception waits,
A leader lost, to pride's cruel fate.

The humble stutterer, a different sight,
With words that falter, yet ring so bright.
In honesty, his soul is bared,
A leader true, with love he's dared.

Not in perfection, does greatness lie,
But in the courage, to not deny.
Our stumbles and falls, our human state,
The humble stutterer, shall not break.

I'd choose the one, whose heart is pure,
Whose words may falter, yet truth endure.
For in his eyes, a light does shine,
A leader true, with love divine.

Threads of Fate ( meditations on Joshua 7)

In life's tapestry, our threads are spun,
Each life connected, a web so finely strung.
A single pull, the fabric puckers and yields,
A reminder that our lives, together are sealed.

Like ripples on a pond, our actions spread,
Interwoven in the fabric of life's great thread.
A waterfall, from a single drop does rise,
Our deeds, a cascade, beneath the heavens' eyes.

Within the game of life, we move as one,
Each choice affecting, all that's to come.
A chess player, looks forward in his sight,
His every move, a ripple in the night.

For good or ill, our deeds are felt,
Throughout the web of life, so deftly knelt.
Our lives, a dance of cause and effect,
A force in motion, a truth to reflect.

With every action, comes reaction's sway,
The balance of life, in its intricate play.
So let us choose, with love in our hearts,
For our interconnectedness, is but the start.

In the story of Achan, a truth resides,
That every choice, affects far more than just our lives.
We are the pebbles, in the pond so vast,
Our deeds, the ripples, that forever last.

A Tale of Deliverance

In times of old, a story's told,
Of Abigail, a woman bold.
With beauty bright, and wisdom true,
To Nabal, she was bound, a man so cruel.

As Nabal's heart, with darkness filled,
America knew, a leader's will,
Resounding with harshness, and deceit,
A nation wept, so bittersweet.

Yet God, in mercy, heard their cries,
And sent deliverance, from darkened skies.
As He saved Abigail, from a marriage ill,
America too, found strength and will.

Now again, let us choose, with hearts aflame,
Leaders of honor, deserving of fame.
Kind and humble, like David of old,
Let our nation's story, with grace unfold.

A woman wise, and nation strong,
Found freedom, from a tyrant's song.
As Abigail to David's heart was led,
Let America choose leaders, that gently tread.

In times to come, let tales be spun,
Of choices made, and battles won.
For when we seek, with love and light,
Our leaders shall guide us, towards what’s right.

(reprint of Facebook post July 6th by Doris Moss)

Most Puissant

In a quaint old house, not far from town,
Lived Grandpa, with his wisdom and his frown.
He thought he ruled with power and might,
But Grandma, in truth, held the truest light.

With a posse of grandchildren at her side,
Grandma's love was potent, a gentle guide.
Though Grandpa's words were often profound,
It was Grandma's love that truly crowned.

In her eyes, a sparkle, so pure and true,
A love so strong, so deeply imbued.
Her presence, so potent, her touch so kind,
In her embrace, all troubles released, we'd find.

Grandpa's ways were strong, his voice loud,
But Grandma's love was the family's shroud.
Her influence was pervasive, her love so pure,
In her presence, we felt so secure.

Grandpa thought he ruled the house,
But Grandma's love was the most puissant,
Her love so powerful, her spirit bright,
In our hearts, she shone the brightest light.

Grace

Gentle whispers in the breeze, easing the mind,
Radiant smiles illuminating, warmth they find.
Arms open wide, welcoming with embrace,
Cherishing moments, time can't erase.
Eternal bond, unbroken, in every space.

I Worked Hard - With Privilege

In the chorus of life, I've heard a refrain so strong,
"I worked hard," they sing, their pride a song.
But beneath the surface, a truth untold,
Privilege whispers, stories unfold.

"I worked hard for everything I own,"
A declaration made, firmly shown.
Yet privilege's shadow, it casts its light,
On uneven paths, where fortunes take flight.

Not all fields are level, not all starts fair,
Some face obstacles, while others breeze with air.
Acknowledging privilege doesn't diminish toil,
It unveils the layers, the societal coil.

Inherent advantages, woven in time,
Shape destinies, like an intricate rhyme.
From education's doors to job's embrace,
Privilege paves ways, leaving little trace.

Systemic disparities, a complex weave,
In the fabric of success, they interleave.
The race, the class, they play their part,
In shaping narratives, in every heart.

For meritocracy's promise, oft a guise,
As social and racial currents rise.
Numbers speak volumes, stories untold,
Of inherited wealth, as centuries unfold.

So let's pause to listen, to voices unheard,
To grasp the nuances, each spoken word.
"I worked hard," yes, but privilege sees,
The unequal paths, the differing pleas.

At America’s Door

In distress, they come, a people in flight,
Their dreams laid bare beneath the moonlit night.
The border, a threshold, a harrowing plight,
I see their struggle, their will to fight.

Oh, weary souls, I feel your pain,
Your whispered prayers, your silent refrain.
You’ve braved the rivers, the scorching terrain,
In search of a future, so much to gain.

Their eyes, a window to stories untold,
Of violence and hunger, a life so cold.
They’ve left behind the world they’ve known,
Their hearts set on a land to call their own.

Is their fate to be shunned and turned away,
From the home of the brave, the land of the free?
Should their cries for help fall on deaf ears?
Are our hearts hardened, consumed by fears?

What is this liberty that we so proudly claim,
If we close our doors, and let injustice reign?
Are we to watch as their hopes are shattered,
As our fellow man is left to be battered?

Embrace them, America, as your own,
For within your walls, they’ve sought a home.
From many, we are one, let us unite,
To lift the weary, to do what’s right.

Meliorate their plight, lend a helping hand,
Let compassion, not prejudice, take a stand.
Their dreams are but a reflection of our own,
In their eyes, our ancestors are shown.

Let our borders embody a promise of hope,
A beacon to those who seek to cope.
For as we embrace the immigrant's stride,
Our nation's heart grows ever more wide.

A Broken Heart

In the bloom of youth, a young man's heart did beat,
For a maiden fair, whose love was sweet.
Their bond was strong, their passion true,
Yet family ties, they did not ensue.

A love so fierce, unyielding and bright,
Stood against the currents, with all its might.
His family's scorn, a weight to bear,
Their absence at the wedding, a burden to share.

"My love," he vowed, "forever we'll be,
Against all odds, just you and me."
The years went by, their love still glowed,
But still, his family's hearts were cold.

Each day, a battle, to make them see,
The love that bound them, their destiny.
Yet every act of love was met with rejection,
Their scorn, a constant, cruel reflection.

With every breath, the young man bore the pain,
In his heart, a relentless, aching strain.
His strength, unyielding, a love so true,
He held her close, as they were but two.

As life drew short, and death drew near,
The young man knew, his end was clear.
He looked into her eyes, love's light did shine,
"My love, forever, you'll be mine."

Now from heaven's gates, his spirit cries,
As still, the family's bitterness survives.
His beloved, his widow, their bond so pure,
Endures the pain, a heart left obscure.

His spirit mourns, his soul in strife,
A love unbroken, a bond for life.
Eternal love, from beyond the skies,
As the young man watches, with love in his eyes.

Why Do They Have to Make Everything About Race?"

"Why Do They Have to Make Everything About Race?"
A question posed, a shield in place,
Diminishing truths, experiences erased,
As if discussing race were a disgrace.

Centuries of laws, a tangled web spun,
Tying lives together, the battle begun,
Systemic injustices, deeply rooted and strong,
Yet some choose blindness, deny the wrong.

To mention race is not to accuse or blame,
But to understand histories, never the same,
Lives shaped by biases, struggles untold,
Injustices faced, from young to old.

"Why do they have to make everything about race?"
A refrain of ignorance, a misplaced embrace,
For meaningful dialogues, it's a crucial space,
To unravel complexities, a need to face.

Acknowledging privilege, disparities clear,
Can pave the way for empathy's sincere,
Participating in conversations, an essential art,
To bridge divides, and heal each heart.

So let's not shy away from what must be discussed,
Let's dismantle barriers, in equity's trust,
For understanding race, it's a step we must take,
Towards a world where justice isn't at stake.

I'm not Racist, I Have Black Friends

In the mosaic of friendships, colors blend,
Yet truth remains, there's much to comprehend.
"I'm not racist," a shield some proudly wield,
"I have Black friends," a narrative concealed.

Diverse backgrounds paint our social scene,
But beneath the surface, biases unseen.
A shield against accusations, they claim,
Yet fail to confront the biases, the same.

Having friends of color, a step indeed,
But alone, it's not enough to heed.
Internalized racism, biases deep-seated,
Require introspection, attitudes unseated.

Allyship demands more than mere claim,
It's about actions, not just a name.
Proactive steps, confronting our flaws,
Challenging biases, breaking down walls.

Listening to voices that have long been ignored,
Amplifying struggles, standing in accord.
Understanding privilege, the role we play,
In dismantling systems, day by day.

So let's not hide behind friendships' guise,
But delve deeper, where truth lies.
For genuine allyship, it's an ongoing quest,
To confront biases and truly invest.

You're not like Others

Oh, darling, did you think I'd fit your mold?
Well, sorry to disappoint, I won't be controlled.
"You're not like others," you say with a smirk,
As if being unique is some sort of quirk.

I don't dance to your tune or follow your line,
I'm not here for your stereotypes to define.
You see, I'm me, unapologetically bold,
Breaking down barriers, stories untold.

Your divisive words won't shake my stride,
I won't let your biases be my guide.
I embrace my roots, my culture, my flair,
I won't conform to your narrow-minded stare.

Celebrating diversity means more than you know,
It's about embracing each unique glow.
So, next time you're tempted to utter those words,
Remember, I'm not here to fit your absurd.

I'm not like others, and that's just fine,
I'll keep shining bright, this light of mine.
So take your stereotypes, your biased view,
I'll be over here, being authentically true.

Time Passes - Systemic Racism Remains

Examine America's legal history, a story unfolds,
Of a nation built on dreams and gold.
Yet woven within its fabric deep,
Are tales of sorrow that often creep.

Slavery's chains, a brutal yoke,
Enslaved the hearts, as freedom spoke.
Men and women, deemed as mere chattel,
Their cries unheard in a world so callous.

The Three-Fifths Compromise, a cynical trade,
Human souls counted, but rights delayed.
A nation's growth, on backs so weary,
Yet equality's light remained dreary.

The 1790 Naturalization Act's decree,
Excluded many from liberty's plea.
"Free white persons" alone could aspire,
While others faced walls ever higher.

Fugitive Slave Acts, cruel and cold,
Denied escape, as freedom they stole.
Bloodhounds and chains, a harrowing sight,
Injustice thrived, cloaked in the night.

Segregation in ranks, within the military's might,
African Americans faced a discriminatory plight.
Their valor disregarded, their service stained,
By barriers erected, freedom restrained.

The Indian Removal Act's painful course,
Tore tribes from lands, a brutal force.
Trail of Tears, a tear-stained trail,
Of broken promises and hopes frail.

Dred Scott's lament, a legal blow,
"No rights," they said, to freedom's flow.
Citizenship denied, justice deferred,
In courts of law, fairness deterred.

Homestead Acts, a promise betrayed,
Land for settlers, but others strayed.
Excluded and marginalized, hopes forlorn,
Inequality entrenched, from dusk till morn.

Jim Crow's laws, a darkened shroud,
Segregated lives, voices cowed.
Separate but unequal, a bitter pill,
Injustice rampant, a nation ill.

Ku Klux Klan's terror, a reign of fear,
Against Black lives, their hatred clear.
Violence and intimidation, tools of hate,
Civil rights' champions, a heavy weight.

Chinese Exclusion Act, a closed door,
Immigration barred, dreams no more.
Based on race, a nation's shame,
Inequity's mark, a lasting flame.

Dawes Act's betrayal, lands divided,
Native heritage, forcibly derided.
Assimilation's cruel facade,
Culture lost, by policies flawed.

Plessy v. Ferguson's ill-fated decree,
"Separate but equal," a fallacy.
Segregation's grip, unyielding and strong,
Rights denied, justice gone wrong.

Internment camps, Japanese Americans' plight,
Freedom stripped, in wartime's blight.
Executive Order 9066's stain,
On liberty's banner, a dark refrain.

Alien Land Laws, a discriminatory pact,
Asian immigrants, land rights lacked.
Denied opportunities, a biased creed,
Injustice sowed, a bitter seed.

Agricultural Adjustment Act's unequal measure,
Excluded many, a loss to treasure.
Sharecroppers and farmers, left behind,
Economic disparities, ever unkind.

Federal Housing Act's misguided aim,
Urban renewal's cost, a racial claim.
Redlining's mark, on neighborhoods so dear,
Wealth disparities, crystal clear.

The Federal Aid Highway Act's path,
Displaced communities, in its aftermath.
Segregation's legacy, highways divide,
Economic gaps, ever wide.

Immigration Act of '65, a new dawn,
Yet shadows lingered, biases drawn.
Impact varied, by nationality and race,
Immigrant journeys, in a complex maze.

The fight for civil rights, a long road,
Voting rights struggles, a heavy load.
Barriers to healthcare, education's gate,
Justice delayed, a nation's fate.

Mass incarceration's disproportionate toll,
Communities of color, paying the toll.
War on Drugs, a flawed crusade,
Criminal justice, in shadows it wade.

Environmental policies, a biased stance,
Communities suffer, in toxic dance.
Equal access to healthcare, a distant dream,
Disparities stark, in health's stream.

Labor practices unfair, workers dismayed,
Minorities sidelined, wages delayed.
Educational inequalities, a stark reality,
Schools segregated, hope's frailty.

HUD policies, housing divide,
Discrimination persists, on every side.
Prison-industrial complex, a nation's stain,
Racially biased policing, causing pain.

In this tapestry of triumph and woe,
Inequities embedded, as centuries flow.
Challenges remain, for justice to prevail,
A nation's conscience, a constant tale.

Uppity

"Uppity," they say, with venom's sting,
A word steeped in history rings.
A term that's laced with prejudice's taint,
Injustice's mark, a painful plaint.

In old Southern drawls, it was once used,
For Black souls deemed too bold, accused.
Insufficient deference, they would claim,
To societal norms, a daring flame.

"Uppity" still carries that weight,
Of racial bias, an unjust fate.
But "uppity" is but a feeble barb,
In the face of strength, it loses its garb.

They see my grace, my confidence gleam,
And to their eyes, it's a haunting dream.
Nevertheless, I rise above, with grace and poise,
Defying stereotypes, breaking noise.

Bombarded by labels meant to confine,
I rise above, my spirit refined.
"Uppity," they say, with a hint of disdain,
Yet I won't let their judgments restrain.

For in their words, I see a reflection,
Of their own fears and misdirection.
To be called "uppity" for intellect and grace,
Speaks volumes of their own limited space.

I embrace my intelligence, my strength, my flair,
Unbound by societal norms, I dare to declare,
That I won't conform to their narrow view,
For my worth transcends their skewed milieu.

With grace and finesse, I navigate,
The challenges thrown, I won't abate.
I acknowledge my gifts, my advanced stance,
And won't let their labels dim my expanse.

So to those who label with shallow intent,
I hold my head high, with confidence lent.
For being "uppity" in their eyes,
Is a testament to my limitless skies.

So let them label, let them speak,
My spirit strong, it won't be weak.
For in every stride, I claim my space,
A woman of color, with dignity and grace.

It's not About Poverty, Its About Race

Wearing masks of words, a subtle shield,
"It's not about race," the claim concealed.
A veil over truths, realities unseen,
Injustice masked, a narrative so keen.

"It's about poverty," they firmly state,
As if race and class could separate.
But intertwined they are, a tangled thread,
Centuries of history, where they've bled.

From laws of old, to systems designed,
Racism's grip, poverty entwined.
Inequities born, from unjust rules,
Affecting generations, like darkening pools.

Systemic racism, a root so deep,
In poverty's shadows, its secrets keep.
For race and poverty walk hand in hand,
A complex dance, across the land.

"It's not about race," they often declare,
Yet systemic racism lurks in the air.
A racial caste system, entrenched and sly,
Leads to poverty's grip, where many lie.

Generations burdened by unequal start,
Systemic biases tearing lives apart.
Limited opportunities, doors closed tight,
Invisible barriers, dimming hope's light.

Injustice's mask, woven with care,
Hides the truth of a system unfair.
Race and poverty, a nexus profound,
Shaping destinies, without a sound.

So let's unveil these layers, bold and true,
Addressing racism, poverty too.
For until we dismantle the caste's cruel role,
True equality remains an elusive goal.

Acknowledgment needed, of intertwined woes,
To tackle injustice, how it grows.
Intersectionality, a crucial view,
In fighting battles, old and new.

To say "it's not about race" is to ignore,
The struggles faced, forevermore.
So let's dismantle, with wisdom's might,
Systemic racism, in justice's light.

Reverse Racism, a Myth

Bequeathed with the benefits of inequality's grip,
Statements of "reverse racism" slip,
A term misunderstood, a concept flawed,
In a world where privilege writes its own code.

Centuries of pain, of systemic weight,
Cannot be reversed by a single debate,
For racism's roots run deep and wide,
In systems of oppression, where truths often hide.

To speak of reverse racism, a misnomer indeed,
For it ignores the power dynamics at full speed,
In a society where privilege reigns supreme,
No reverse discrimination is what it seems.

White privilege casts a long, enduring shade,
Where opportunities differ, foundations laid,
For a white person to claim victimhood in a system so biased,
Is to deny the truths that have long been advised.

It's not about individual acts alone,
But structures and histories deeply sown,
Injustice persists, regardless of intent,
In systems where inequality finds its cement.

So let's not muddy waters with misleading claims,
But confront realities, break through the chains,
Ridding ourselves of systemic racism is where true justice lies,
Acknowledging privilege, opening eyes.

Reverse racism, a myth to dispel,
In a world where inequality persists and still dwells,
Let's strive for equity, for fairness, for all,
Until every voice, every life stands tall.

Break Through to a Breakthrough

Everyday, the sun rises anew,
Bringing hopes of a breakthrough true.
In every day, there's a chance to find,
A path to a breakthrough of the mind.

When we face a breakdown, don't despair,
For it can lead to a breakthrough rare.
Through the tears and the break down low,
We find strength we didn't know we could show.

Turnaround moments, they come and go,
When we're at our lowest, feeling hollow.
But if we turn around and face the light,
We'll find the strength to continue the fight.

The payoff comes after the hard work's done,
When we refuse to quit, and we keep on the run.
Every rollout is a step ahead,
In the journey of life where dreams are fed.

So let's roll out our plans with courage strong,
Knowing every setback is where we belong.
For in every breakdown, there's a breakthrough near,
And every day is a chance to persevere.

Grace

Gathering her thoughts, she navigates life's challenges with understanding.
Revered for her calm demeanor, she embodies the virtue of composure and honor.
Adorned with humility, she carries herself with a gentle aura.
Cultivating kindness, she uplifts her prime characteristic.
Embracing tranquility, she embodies a serene presence.

Wedding Anniversary Celebration

In this world of fleeting dreams,
Where love's a dance on fragile beams,
You two have built a steadfast bond,
A love that's deep, enduring, and fond.

Through years of joy and tears you've grown,
Your love a seed, now fully sown,
Into a tree with roots entwined,
A love that's true, a love defined.

Through trials and storms, your love did weather,
Each challenge made you stronger together,
And now, as you reach this milestone day,
We celebrate your love, come what may.

May your hearts continue to unite,
In love, compassion, and delight,
May every year bring greater love,
As you journey on, hand in glove.
So here's to you, this special day,
May your love shine bright, come what may,
May your hearts continue to grow,
In the love you've pledged, forever more.

Intern’s Odyssey

In a realm of cubicles, the corporate decorum,
Arrived a new intern, a diligent factotum.
Given hoards of files with deadlines tight,
He worked tirelessly through the night.

His skills shined in a world of demands,
Efficient as the moon, with invisible hands,
Floating through the codes and the keys.
His presence, a whisper in the nocturnal breeze.

In the quiet moments, breviloquent and wise,
He spoke with precision, avoiding needless lies.
He oscillated between tasks, a dance so precise.
He gathered experience, causing his learning to rise.

His duties called him back and forth as one noctambulating
In corridors with silent footsteps echoing.
With each trial conquered, his confidence grew,
His aspirations soaring, his dreams anew.

With the tutelege of mentors, he found his way,
Efflorescence of knowledge blooming each day.
His dedication drew admiration from peers,
As he conquered obstacles, overcoming fears.

And as he journeyed through the corporate maze,
He found his place, in myriad ways.
His name whispered in the halls with respect,
For his prowess and diligence, no one could neglect.

In the realm of cubicles, he carved his domain,
A testament to hard work, not in vain.
For in the quiet hours, when the world was asleep,
He soared, his vigilance, eternally deep.

No longer just an intern, but a force to reckon,
In his veins, ambition flowed like a beckon.
No longer a jack of trades, now a professional creed,
A master, for success was his steed.

So here he stands, at the pinnacle of his quest,
A testament to determination, and no less.
In the realm of cubicles, he found his place,
A shining example of success and grace.

Dress Well Young Man

In the annals of history, a tale unfolds
Of black bodies oppressed, in chains of old
Forbidden to dress, in fine attire;
Their spirits subdued, by oppressive fire.

The Negro Act of 1740 decreed
Africans should not aspire, to dress with heed
In finery or wealth; Their attire should be
No more than cloth, the lowest degree.

Wearing clothes of worth, above their station
Was deemed an act, of subversion.
For those who dared, to dress with grace
Their clothes were seized, without a trace.

But as time went on, a revolution began.
The Civil Rights movement, took a stand.
Dressing well was no longer a crime.
It became a symbol, of resistance and pride in that time.

Black Ivy, they called it, a style so refined
Worn by icons, who were unconfined:
James Baldwin, Miles Davis, to name a few.
They wore their clothes, as a badge of truth.

This fashion was more, than just a trend.
It was a way of saying, we will not bend
To the will of those, who seek to oppress.
We will dress with pride, and no less.

Fashion is a language, that speaks of our past.
It tells the stories, of those who have passed.
Black Ivy is a symbol, of strength and defiance.
A way of reclaiming, our right to alliance.

So young black men, let this be a sign,
Dress well and proud, let your light shine.
For there was a time, when it was forbidden,
But now it's a symbol, of the strength within.

Outcry Against White Tape

In halls of power, this tale unfolds,
Where ancient tales of greed are told,
Where white men with pens and ties of silk,
Weave "white tape" through dreams like milk.

It's but a form, a whisper thin,
A bureaucratic web of sin,
A labyrinthine coil of law,
That strangles hope and justice raw.

It's rules and regs, it's forms to fill,
A silent scream, a bitter pill,
It's layers thick, a fortress strong,
That binds us all, that does us wrong.

It's red tape's cousin, pale and bright,
That wraps our dreams, a shroud of blight,
It's endless loops, it's twists and turns,
That choke our spirits, as it burns.

This dreaded tape of whitened hue,
Binds our dreams, our visions strew,
A convoluted web it weaves,
An endless maze that none perceive.

This, twisted tape, a veil of dread,
Strangles growth, our spirits dead, In its gossamer threads, our dreams are caught,
A symphony of voices, silenced, wrought.

It chokes our rivers, stills our streams,
Condemns our hopes to empty schemes,
With every knot, a dream deferred,
A silent scream, a justice blurred.

For though it's white, it's deadly too,
And it's time we break it, me and you.
Come, let us fight and stand as one,
No matter color, creed, or run,

Come, raise your voice, and take a stand,
Against this tape, that binds our land,
Let us stand, in unity,
Our voices loud, our hearts set free,

We'll tear through its loops, unravel its twine,
We'll break through walls, we'll draw a line,
For in this fight, we'll stand as one,
Together strong, until it's done.

We rise, we fight, we push, we pull,
Against the tape, we break the lull,
For though it binds, it cannot crush,
The spirit fierce, the soul unhushed.

So we stand, we rise, we roar,
Against the tape, we break the door,
For in the end, we know, we'll see,
A world unbound, a world that's free.

Beneath the Stains

In a time where prideful ignorance reigns,
And truth lies dead, buried beneath the stains,
Of a propaganda whispered sweetly to the ear,
Guiding the masses, like lemurs, without fear.

The Pied Piper leads, a tune so sweet,
His words like honey, a deceptive treat,
And the simple people follow, blind leading blind,
To the depths of their folly, they're inclined.

They vote for agendas, against their own best interest,
Swayed by emotions, having their minds suppressed,
Lacking in reason, their thoughts controlled,
By the puppeteer's strings, their actions bold.

My cry, a plea, falls on deaf ears,
To stop and think, to quell their fears,
To listen to others, to see the truth,
To remove their darkened glasses, to become a sleuth.

But alas, they march, in a trance,
Led by their passions, in a dance,
Of folly and blindness, they're ensnared,
By the Pied Piper's tune, none are spared.

So I watch, with a heavy heart,
As the world falls apart,
In a time where prideful ignorance reigns,
And truth lies dead, beneath the stains.

Dark Minds Hinder Progress

Depths of darkness, where ignorance resides,
A realm of minds unwilling to abide.
Refusing knowledge, a choice self-made,
A burden heavy on progress laid.

Darkened thoughts, a stagnant sea,
Resistance to the waves of wisdom free.
In evolution's dance, they stand apart,
A weight upon the beating heart.

Society's advance, a relentless climb,
Yet, they linger, chained to their own time.
The unwilling learners, a solemn thread,
Where prideful ignornance reigns and truth is dead.

Oh, let the light of learning pierce the night,
Ignite the minds that shun the insightful light.
For in the grasp of knowledge, we find release,
A key to unlock the shackles, grant us peace.

Servant to All

Assigned, those destined by purpose's decree,
Bound by duty, a sacred decree.
Attached, seekers drawn by needs untold,
Yet Jesus served both, his compassion manifold.

In life's dance, two souls emerge,
Assigned and attached, a delicate surge.
Jesus, a servant to both, divine embrace,
Healing virtue flowed in each tender trace.

Gethsemane's shadows, a weight profound,
Yet, to the cross, his purpose unwound.
For those assigned and attached, love's call,
In sacrifice, he gave, embracing all.

A prayer whispers in the quiet breeze,
Pick up your cross, beneath life's trees.
Seek the anointing, a daily shower,
In drained moments, turn to God's power.

Rise Again

On a tear-soaked bed in the dead of night, shadows dance,
And weeping echoes in a mournful trance.
Yet beyond the darkness, hope's light will gleam,
For joy awaits beyond the darkest dream.

Two cheeks, two sides of one face, in unity entwined,
As a coin flipped, revealing what we'll find.
In an exchange for goods, a cycle's spun,
From dawn to dusk, the journey begun.

Waves crash low, then rise with might,
Winter yields to Spring, embracing light.
The meek ascend, the prideful fall,
In life's grand dance, we heed the call.

What's veiled in darkness meets the dawn,
Exposed in light, the truth is drawn.
In every cycle, a tale unfolds,
Of resilience, transformation, and exchange twofold.

So turn your face, embrace the flow,
For life's eternal rhythm, we come to know.
In the ebb and flow of joy and pain,
We find our strength, and rise again.

Tear Collector

When moments are heavy with sorrow's weight,
As tears cascade like gentle rain,
I find solace in God's compassionate trait,
Thanking him for the comforting refrain.

For in the depths of my despair,
When darkness veils the path ahead,
I feel his divine presence there,
Collecting tears, as love is spread.

With tender hands and heart so pure,
God gathers each teardrop, every sigh,
Offering solace, an eternal cure,
As silent guardian of the sky.

So, I offer thanks for his grace,
For the warmth of empathy divine.
In God's embrace, I find my place,
Where tears are a cherished and sacred sign.

Widow’s Joyful New Beginning

Casting off sorrow's veil,
A widow finds strength, her spirit set sail.
New chapters unfold, with courage ablaze,
Embracing joy, in life's vibrant maze.

Opportunity whispers, a promise untold,
A canvas anew, where stories unfold.
Blessed by resilience, grace in each stride,
She dances with hope, by destiny's side.

Grief may linger, a tender scar,
Yet within her, a radiant star.
A metamorphosis, bold and free,
A song of strength and jubilee.

At the forefront, she leads with might,
A beacon of strength in the battles' light.
Her husband smiles from a celestial abode,
As she paves a path on life's courageous road.

An example, she is to women young and old,
Her narrative of resilience encourages others to be bold.
As she forges ahead, her legacy unfolds,
A tale of fortitude in a mounument she molds.

Widow’s Encouragement

In tombs deep, where grief does dwell,
A widow's heart, a tale to tell.
To you, dear one, whose path is new,
Embrace the dawn, let hope renew.

In echoes of a love once known,
Find strength within, let seeds be sown.
Through tear-stained nights and endless ache,
Know that time can gently break.

The whispers of the past may sting,
Yet from sorrow, new beginnings spring.
In solitude, find solace sweet,
As memories and love entreat.

Though tempests rage and winds may howl,
Within your heart, a resilient prowl.
For seasons change, and so shall you,
A metamorphosis, strong and true.

In shared stories, both joy and strife,
Connect with kindred souls in life.
For in the tapestry of fate,
New threads emerge, don't hesitate.

Widowhood is but a chapter, dear,
A testament to love sincere.
From the ashes, rise once more,
A phoenix born, forevermore.

Embrace the dawn, the sunlit glow,
For in your strength, new blooms will grow.
In whispered winds and moonlit skies,
A symphony of hope, forever flies.

The Meek will Inherit the Earth

There are hrouds of shadows, where silence weaves
Among the hollow, a place where no heart grieves.
In a culture cold, where kindness fades,
The prey, with beating hearts, in quiet parades.

Through haunted streets, where numbness reigns,
A symphony of sorrow, in the prey's refrains.
Beneath the moon, a heart's soft beat,
Echoes in the darkness, a vulnerable feat.

They walk as ghosts, with souls untold,
In search of warmth, in a world grown cold.
Yet, predators lurk, with eyes so keen,
To feast upon the hearts, pure and serene.

A dance of survival in the midnight air,
The prey's pulse whispers, a silent prayer.
Beware the ones who wear a guise,
For in their hands, compassion dies.

But amidst the shadows, a flicker of hope,
The prey's resilience, a slippery slope.
In the night's embrace, they persevere,
For even in darkness, love will appear.

So, let the heartless tread with care,
For the prey's spirit is a flame to bear.
In a culture of void, they endure the strife,
A symphony of hearts, the rhythm of life.

Isolated Heart Finds Love

In the isolation of solitude's embrace,
A woman weaves a tale of vacant space.
Isolated heart in abandonment's clasp,
Longing for love, within a silent gasp.

A daughter born, a new chapter unfolds,
Tiny fingers entwine as destiny molds.
Gentle touch echoes through the years,
An infant's grasp, dissolving past tears.

In that tender moment, a bond reborn,
A symphony of love, from a soul once torn.
Long-buried desires, like blossoms, unfurl,
As maternal warmth envelopes the girl.

The weight of loneliness begins to wane,
In the grasp of innocence, a connection reigns.
A mother's heart, now in rhythm aligned,
As love, like a river, flows unconfined.

Ruin of a Nation

In swamps deep, where chaos thrives,
A dance with crisis, truth connives.
Coddling whispers, conspiracy's bed,
With blinded eyes, ignorance is fed.

Extremist arms, an embrace so tight,
Refusing compromise, shunning the light.
Backward they tread, history denied,
A conscience lost, in ignorance they hide.

Covering truth with a veil so impenetrable,
In the dance of confusion, reason does stumble.
Forward lies the path they neglect,
Lost in the echoes of a past they protect.

A society decaying, bound for Scheol,
A cancerous sore, consuming the soul.
Rotting within, the host it devours,
The fabric unravels, toxic powers.

Resilience

Rising above challenges,
Enduring storms with grace,
Steadfast in adversity,
Igniting strength in every trace,
Lingering, resilient spirit,
Illuminating the darkest space,
Evolving with unwavering pace.
Nurturing hope within,
Conquering obstacles with zeal,
Embracing challenges with appeal.

Dark Missionary

To unfamiliar lands, the missionaries came,
With faith professed, but shadows cast in shame.
Their Christian guise concealed a darker plan,
Imperial aims, expanding rule began.

Hostility veiled in sanctity's guise,
Aggression masked by prayers to the skies.
Militarism marched with scripture in hand,
Colonial conquest, subjugation's demand.

In the name of God, they sought control,
Unfriendly forces taking heavy toll.
Assaultive deeds in the name of grace,
Demonizing others, a relentless race.

Indigenous tongues silenced, erased,
Cultural history stripped, disgraced.
Families divided by oppressive might,
Murder and genocide cast a chilling light.

Yet, amidst the darkness, resistance rose,
A fight for freedom, as truth exposes.
For every chapter stained with blood,
A call for justice, a plea for good.

Have Mercy

Clutched tightly in avarice's embrace,
Imperial hearts, seeking endless chase.
Wars born of desires, not survival's plea,
White sepulchers outside, within, decay's decree.

Love for silver, hearts decomposed,
Acts of aggression, as history's exposed.
These men, vessels fit for wrath's fierce might,
In pursuit of more, blinded by greed's blight.

Blackened within, like a tomb's darkened core,
Their deeds tell a tale of endless war.
God's mercy sought for vessels of clay,
Prayers ascend for those who know the way.

For, in the shadows, vessels of mercy stand,
Enduring pain with faith so grand.
God's children, called not of yet,
Their hope in Him, a timeless duet.

May compassion reign, mercy descend,
On those who've borne sorrow, on whom trials attend.
Declare His name throughout the earth's expanse,
The glory of God in His chosen, a divine dance.

Arawak’s Welcome, Columbus’ Scheme

In lands unknown to Europeans, with open hearts they stood,
The children of God, in peace they would.
Parrots and gifts, a gesture sincere,
Welcoming Columbus, without fear.

Primitive innocence in their gaze,
Unarmed, unaware of darkened days.
Their island's freedom, a precious prize,
Yet Columbus schemed with greedy eyes.

A twisted plot, in shadows concealed,
Deceptive words, his true thoughts revealed.
Exploitation's seed sown in the soil,
As friendship's guise masked a darker toil.

Gold glimmered subtly, caught Columbus' eye,
A catalyst for deeds that would belie
The harmony sought by the gentle hand,
Disturbed by greed, in a foreign land.

Oh, Arawaks, children of the sun,
Unwitting prey for deeds yet undone.
Columbus, a specter with sinister plans,
Unleashing chaos upon those sands.

As history unfolds, a tale untold,
Of hospitality pure, and hearts of gold.
Yet, marred by shadows of a darker creed,
The clash of worlds, a tragic misdeed.