Skip to main content

Live the Vote

They say there's a day for it, I know
Sometime after the leaves change,
We change. We get voices, a voice,
As if we didn't have choices, a choice.

A daily say in our own philosophy,
Our own fate and the fates of others.
Be kind. Do I have to rewind this for you?
We have choices, a choice, actions speak louder

Than your voice.

But what if systemic change only happens
When we lift a pen with the masses?
The past fought for our right, wouldn't we fight
For the expression of choices, for different voices?

I must amend, amend these words, your voice
Matters, your choice, matters. Actions and words.
You've been heard, you're being seen by the future.
You're examples, role models, and human beings.

Is it true?

Have you given thought to the thoughts thought
By you? Is it enough to vote and not act?
Schools need funding, roads need repaired,
What do you plan to do about that? Look. Results.

Words, words were placed down and picked up
By generations. "WE THE PEOPLE" and others.
Incantations we can't imagine life without, words.
Are we doing enough beyond ballot blurbs?

What's enough?

All it takes is recognition, realizing division,
To know there's work left to do, and it starts
with You. Values, visions, views, yes or no.
Are you paper or doing driven? Come on.

March to the heart beat of the never still drum,
This living is more than the stones we've written on.
Make things move, shake the walls, give it, not in,
Give your all. I can't hear you, but I see you roar.

Live the vote. Open up doors.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Bonus Poem: Look Up!

Looking down, I read the priceless pages, Someone else, sweetly, precisely, Had written their drinkable life on. And I drank in the appreciation Of her words, one sentence at a time, A good, fresh white. Sensational, the clouds were Pouring in, filling my cup,  Easing in, with a soft voice that said, "Look up!" My eyes glanced, only peeking At first, toward the sky. Those rain-bringers harnessing My irises with glee. And as if it had been there All along, the whole long while, A sparrow drifted into the Watercolor before me, soaring. It glided on the currents That were my own world, too. And we shared the view, Him up there, I, eyes lifting further now. And then the wind found itself Playing in the cottonwood's hair. And I smiled, thinking About how good it probably felt, Those wind-fingers, sifting through. 
Post a Comment
Read more

The Protagonist

She was more of an idea Than a person, yet Her arms reached through The wrinkled pages As I was planning Her defenestration. “Don't,” she said, holding My hand steady. Her typical loquaciousness Gone in a moment - being At the rim does that. Her desperate idea-fingers Grasping, trying to stop The Dusk. I brooded over her Resistance. This story Would be knee-deep In hardship, in never-before-felt Pain. How could I put her In the middle of this Vast dystopian wastebasket And hope she clamors Out? Perhaps I could give her A companion, a slobber-filled Canine or a not-so-kindred Spirit? I could fill her days With synchronicity, with a This-leads-to-that purpose, to fight through The drawl and the drudge, The beginning. In this oneiric world, More nightmarish than The last, she would find Herself at the cusp of Her Self. First demure, red lips Parting only for candy-laced words, And then later, only To respect a humble god or command Her hunger-ridden army To live. Yes, I see the smoke ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Leashed on the Edge of "I"

Do you ever wish you could view yourself As others see you? At a distance? That you might become one of the crowd Or the speck from the airplane? Or maybe you might become so close That you are nothing but locks of hair And the smell of Cabernet and black tea And a force in the night. I imagine you could even be mistaken For someone else. Could you mistake you For someone else? I think I could do it, Be you, or her, or him, or that dog over there Sniffing the fence, sorting out these Divisions. I didn't say I was I from the Beginning, but I wonder how we drag "I" Around like a stick, and chew a piece off Now and again. You were thrown the stick, And you fetched. But what if you could sniff Beyond the fence and be something more Or something less? Would you? Could we?
Post a Comment
Read more