one day you wake up

to see if your cup 

is half full

no wait, that’s bull

not a cup, it’s a glass

i feel like an ass

got my metaphors mixed

hafta get that stuff fixed

or i’m gonna get nixed

in my quest for a clue

as to what i can do 

to deal with this life

the collateral strife

i feel 

at times is unreal

tryin’ to do the right thing

not just take, but to bring

to the table

the hope that i’m able

to make a real diff 

even if

this riff

seems tired and trite

and i get so damn tight 

i still gotta try

not just to get by 

“to line up to die”

but figure out why

the sky

and i

are blue

and why i can’t deal

does everyone feel 

that way too


when we’re young we are told

not to hate or be cold

to be fair

and to care

perhaps even bare

our souls

stop playing roles

be kind

use our minds

and our hearts

to make a real start,

beat a path to fruition

instead of perdition 

but here’s the big fix

like a huge ton of bricks

just who 


we look to

when our heroes are gone

and a marathon 

of grifters and cheats

and corporate deadbeats

have taken the reigns

and become the real banes

of existence

where’s “the resistance?”

when bias and hate

seem to be the main trait

of those who’re in charge

and enlarge

with their copious lies

everything we despise

these days i refuse

to turn on the news

the cancerous greed

that foments and breeds

threatens our souls

and north and south poles

of a world

being hurled

back into the stark


ages again

read a pain scale of 10

while i scratch with my pen

and sit on my fence

afraid that i’ll fall

as i try to make sense

of it all


here’s the part

where i start

to talk about love

and powers above

not corn and cliché

and memes of the day

but of spiritual teachers

and lamas and preachers,

who speak of a way

of keeping at bay

the “things” and beliefs

we think give relief

to our agonized brains,

the completely insane


and slaving

for something to fill 

an unfillable hole

an unpayable bill

an unreachable goal

they tell us straight up

‘bout that glass or that cup

and ask us to stop

take a deep breath and pop

the bubble in which we are trapped

where our energy’s sapped

cause we want things to change

or at least rearrange

gotta crop ideations

and blind machinations

abandon all stations -

and run for the hills

stop taking those pills

and loose

the noose 

of success

where we make others less

so we can be more

as we slam the steel door

on our friends and our foes

not just step on their toes

but actually break them

humiliate them

obliterate them

whilethey’restuck in place

in the same old rat race

where nobody wins

and mother earth spins

flat out of control

spreading terror and fear

and plummeting near

an endless black hole


and so now back to the top

and tryin’ to cop

a solution

not retribution

the state that we’re in?

unoriginal sin

and it’s got me on pins

and needles, i’m weak

but i still hafta speak

for the answer i seek

in the midst of this bleak

and frightening time

ain’t blind 


divine intuition 

is our greatest resource

and only recourse

not power or pride

but what’s hidden inside

not who i should be

some recycled me

but who - i am

not my race or my fam

or gender or sex

the flecks

on my skin

the house i live in

to whom do i pray 

or what taxes i pay

the words that i say

or my d n a

beyond all those things

and the pain that they bring

is an essence 

a presence

a wee mustard seed

that can nourish and feed

a desire

to put out the fire

of envy and greed

and obsessional need 

to wit, be the change

i want in the world

with it’s myriad strange

and warring flags furled

we can’t alter the masses

or countries or classes

the gangs or police...

but we can have peace

if we realize

that the grand freakin’ prize

is held in our eyes

the connection we seek

comes from turning our cheek

admitting we’re wrong 

showing we’re weak

that’swhatmakes us strong


and i know it seems odd

not to use the word, god

when talking like this

but I fear some will miss

the meaning

and even stop leaning

hard toward the light

and probably fight

‘bout that word and whose right

and wrong

it’s gone on for so long

too much history


and autocorrecting

a mystery

so great

it baits 

our breath


our death

no, no, the solution

and simple ablution’s

to drop every name

erase every blame

and put out our hands

share our money and lands

pare off the pride

and stand side by side

just right where we are

under the stars

from which we are made

full-on unafraid

to take action

and make this abstraction:

“thy will” willbe done

through the stark


that our population’s

not trillions or billions or millions... but one


by R. Hoehler