Dreams can die together
They are viral
Every intertwined
Dreams can grow forever
They are vital
Slow to unwind
She who is the speaker of her dreams
Should not be scorned
Embolden this world do not lessen
You have been warned
The dreams which you dismiss
The dreams which the crowd denies
Is that which in perpetuity is lost
And all that loss implies
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
Closer to dead
Is closer to free
Truth no longer
Hides from me
In the corner of my eye
There I see
Shadows approaching slowly
I do not flee
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
Books disregard
Limits of time
Space and Censorship
They are
The final charred
Organic postcards
Until the fiery
Complete end
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
I haven’t a clue what went down at Calvary
Centuries ago
You can put the things in a giant endless box
That I don’t know
I do know much of narratives
The stories we tell ourselves
There are true things in stories
That we create for ourselves
If you tell me Romans might have feared
What they didn’t understand
If you tell me Judas might have betrayed
Someone he loved and respected as man
If you tell me that 3 men were crucified
On crosses plunged deep into the land
If you tell me those that had love for them cried
As the the blood dripped from their nail struck hands
I’d believe you for the most part
I know these stories to be mostly true
I’d believe you at least in part
Because from experience these thing are true to you
People have ever been sacrificed
People have ever been betrayed
Maybe one was named Jesus Christ
Maybe he died today
No narrative sustains
That isn’t one that compels
No stories remain over centuries
That aren’t written in our cells
I’m somber not from a leap of faith
That is not my road
I’m somber for the parts I know are true
Those lying deep within our code
Sacrifice, love, and loss
Things which are often represented
By a lonely hill once bearing a cross
Which many hold when their sins are repented
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
Hatred is created by self narrative
Narrative is human to the core
To find the way to peace
Create stories in your mind no more
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
There are dragonflies
In my earliest memories
There are no clever thoughts
No grand ambitions
Only their loud hum
In the heat of summer
The taste of sweat
Upon my tongue
The feel of damp
On my neck
The river is near
Giving and taking
Sleeping then waking
Frothy then serene
The mountain is near
Giving not taking
Bending and breaking
Its peak still unseen
There is my mother
Provider of food and love
There is my father
Before me and not above
We are of here
This valley
This land
We are from here
Our family
Our band
All I know
Is nearby
Or at least as
The bird flies
The river knew my name
When I was baptized in it
The mountain knew my name
When I walked upon it
I became of here
In my crib
As the wind blew
Through it
I cannot forget
The hum
Of horseflies
Nor the pain
Of their bite
Nor the pull
Of the river’s current
It’s inhuman might
It all escalates outward
It all internalizes inward
The river takes me elsewhere
The mountain fades from view
When I am motionless
I can hear the dragonflies
Humming there still
When I am motionless
The river carries me there
Once again
The mountain’s peak
Still out of view
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
So much of spring is faith
A red flower
We were not certain
Would bloom again
Alive once more
It is the unknowns
That winter creates
Which give birth to wonder
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
The sun will burn till it doesn’t
The heart will beat till it don’t
Worry is a thing I wouldn’t
Do because I won’t
Manage the details and aspects
Of that I cannot control
So I’ll let the world sort through it’s cycles
And ease the burden and toll
Of the weight that builds up sometimes
At the base of my neck and my spine
I’ll listen to the wind, rain, and earth’s hum
And my thoughts will become once again mine
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
Kindness and empathy exist
Without us inventing them
Traits evolved
Not granted
Lessons learned
Over millenniums
Not centuries
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
In pain
Or distress
Or in the end
You don’t remember
The cause of them
At the end of it all
You recall
The who
The what
You love
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
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