Day: May 23, 2021

Sing out your song
Say all of your words
Don’t go into hiding
It would be absurd
Words can be magic
Set you apart
Affect many others
Give them a start

The current message
Don’t take for granted
Most are lies undisputed
Then continually ranted
You are my friends
I wish to share this news
To insulate you from others who
Proclaim these negative views

I love this country
And sing out my song
It is a wonderful world; don’t
Listen to those who are wrong
We are still winning
That is the word
In spite of executive orders
We still have the “Word”

Listen to the truth friends
Don’t follow the lies of
Those who hate this country
People that I despise
Sing out your song
Say all of your words
Be brave and speak out
To not would be absurd

Stanski
May 17, 2021 ^

Fear of not being wrong
But fear of being exposed
And now we get the mixed
Signals; how may deaths
Are okay, can be tolerated
Wear you masks is touted
Be patriotic, while businesses fail

How much of our economy comes
From oil and natural gas
Just about everything you look at
From your computer to medications

Live your life like a free individual
We have all the needed potential
We miss appropriate leadership
What have we got?  Nothingness 
The world is going to take advantage

I view the crosses in the cemetery
All represent different situations
We worry now about the resent situation
And then think again of our fallen heroes

The real leader recognized what must be done
He made progress beyond our ability to comprehend
The Covid-19 epidemic provided the coverage
And this marvelous man was stolen from us
Replaced by a weak, aged, senile bureaucrat
Who had been practicing nothing for nearly 50 years

He did propose the crime bill that was so wrong
Maybe his dwelling on that decision
Corrupted his logical mind – he is now a puppet
Controlled by those who believe in Marxist Socialism
He trots a few steps then acquiesces to our demise

Stanski
May 16, 2021 ^

A guy writes to me about my poem.  
“Echoes of Whitman”, he says.  
“Echoes of myself”, I say.  
Me and the other guy who is also me.  
I am not just one being, one thought, 
one copy but an entity of much.  
Many songs, not just of myself, 
many marches, none of which I composed.  
Many parades, some of which I organized 
are all part of who I am. 
 
I heard an echo of my own cry.  
It was a lovely echo, consoling in a way, 
though, that bothered me.  I enhanced my cry.  
The echo shouted back in such a way as to rile me.  
That is more like it, I thought.  
I want nothing to do with timidity.  
You go nowhere with it and no one cares.  
I will walk above the river, not wishing 
to be lost in its currents for no good purpose.  
The bridge is a safe place with the advantage of 
being able to observe and then make decisions. 
 
I have no longing to be someone else or 
a decoy set out to attract the real thing.  
One of my selves is real, so I use pen-names 
to keep the things of life unsettled.  
My other selves will speak for themselves.  

My concepts of the high-desert and a marshland, 
except for the intrinsic differences, 
may be very much alike.  
I see the spiritual in both and 
that is my high-hand or go to in life.  
I do not wish to use vagueness in 
an effort to skim over reality.  
I know the food of the soul 
just as I know troubled waters.  
We walk swiftly, me and the other guy, 
knowing time is so precious.  
We will not take time to be measured 
on this perpetual journey.  We know
Who will be waiting for us.

Stansberry McKricken aka Stanski
May 23, 2021 ^