Red raw Orlando sun
Lays our failures plain
Kneeling all as one
Souls burdened with pain
Filtering words of sense
From the anger soaked insane
Gene G. McLaughlin 2016
Tag: Peace
I Shall
I have few resources
Often only kindness
And the will to not be inured
To the sorrow of the mourners
And the cries of the injured
I shall not keep to silence
Nor allow bigotry to be ignored
I shall seek no answers in violence
In pursuit of grace much can be endured
I shall make a quiet strong alliance
Between peace and love letting both be heard
In a voice even, but full of defiance
Against wrong thought and action
Committed via both deed and word
Gene G. McLaughlin 2015
Note-
Something I wrote to remember both how sad and outraged I was last week in South Carolina, but also how inspired I was by the survivors families in Charleston and their capacity for grace and forgiveness.
An Ancient Ruthless Language
I do not want to be bitter in the end
DNA is an ancient ruthless language
That which is encoded to be aware
Is encoded to decay
Awareness an advantage
An evolution
Sometimes a difficulty
As the world spins
Bitterness would indicate regret
Which is purchased
And is sustained
By the illusion
That self-determination guided us
Yet the options we have
Are small, but meaningful
Such as the choice of bitterness
About the fate we are dealt
Or
Acceptance of that which blocks our path
And shall never move
To find meaning in stillness
To find peace the inevitable
Gene G. McLaughlin 2015
As The Flames Dance Proud And Free
Once there was a dark blue sky
That a fire burned beneath
The flames were born of
Magma bubbling underneath
The crust and stone of the rock
The cosmos did bequeath
The forming was slow and steady
Selections were rapidly made
Until once a man and woman
Sat one day alone in a glade
They made the choice to name themselves
To call their chosen pairing love
Upon a tree near to them
Perched a pure white dove
They called the dove a thing of peace
Then decorated the tree
With things strewn throughout the glade
As clouds approached from the sea
The cloud became snow in the sky
The tree covered in the coldest white
They light fires to warm them from the cold
Sitting up through the night
They were joined by others soon
To sit before the tree and flames
Soon the others before the fire
Choose to also take names
Still in the winter we sit before the fire
With our decorated tree
We ask for help to make it through the dark
As the flames dance proud and free
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
Exegesis
The towers fell
The gauntlet dropped
The desert hell
Full of cold steel props
It beings now
What is needed
This is how
Introspection is seeded
The broken souls
The bloody fist
The dark foxholes
The casualty list
What of the desert
Its blood soaked grains
What of the fires
Of our shames and pains
What do we recall
Of that day?
What did we desire
Or hide away?
Grief not faced
Is a wound left open
For what’s been razed
And for words unspoken
My heart is bled
Of its hatred
In my head
Glimpsing the sacred
The truth clear
The war never won
The ending near
The heat of the sun
In the towers
As they died
And looked out
Into the sky
They thought not of
Justice
Or noble deeds
Democracy
Or government acts
They were scared
Yet not alone
They thought of you
Your face, your tears
Your love, your loss
Reach out now
It is not too late
To touch their hand
Before they go
The pulsing heart
The slowing beat
We must part
The end is complete
Gene G. McLaughlin 2006
22 Years
When my father was my age
He had 22 more years left
He looked at the future
As an endless array of choices
Without death as an option
It was though
For good or bad
It always is
It is the boundary of
One’s vessel
Not it’s ripples
Across the inward ocean
It is hard me to view all of this
As an infinite journey as he did
Knowing what I know
Yet I will fight to view it so
The shrug off the knowledge of
Where the path to the ocean
Meets the water
Making 22 years into
A transinfinite journey
There is an eternity between moments
Endless ripples between the ripples
The ocean is never still
Even when there is no motion
Looking out from the shore
At the path’s end
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
The Humming Center
Life is want and hunger
Seeking shelter from the rain
The rage to tear asunder
That which causes pain
In the humming center
Is the still humble fact
The life we enter
Is harder when we react
Our decisions
Unquiet the soul
Self derision
Takes it’s toll
You cannot win
That which is not contested
Freedom begins
When you are divested
The sound
Of the water
The taste of the wind
The embrace of your beloved
Tomorrow begins
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
It Doesn’t Matter As Much
It doesn’t matter as much
As my beard grows grey
If I fail, succeed
Or win the day
I’ve failed at things
Had a little success
Surrendered without trying
Or gave it my best
It’s still all so beautiful
It’s still all so sad
If I’m dutiful
If my efforts are bad
I’ll live in the middle
In the dawn or dusk
I’ll engage a little
If I must
I’ll be the bass line
Of the song
You’ll only hear me
If you listen long
Lennon said
Watch the wheels go round and round
Watch the colors
Hear the sound
Feel the beat
Of your space
Stepping back
Is no disgrace
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
You Can Believe
You can believe in rage and conflict
Those are the ways of old
You can believe that confrontations
Make a man brave and bold
You can believe in the language of violence
That ever has existed
You can measure your life by how many conquests
Of which you life has consisted
You can believe in the primal easy path
That has always been the clearest way
Or you can believe you choose for yourself
The road you take today
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
