lamentation – radical druid

Shout It Out Loud: complaint

Published on May 7, 2025

So much of life is at the edge,
stuck on the stoop or on the ledge;
just talking to hear our voice speak,
we shout to stop appearing weak.

We gather friends around ourselves
from minions, imps, and fellow elves;
and muddle through from week to week.
We shout to stop appearing weak.

Through years of this and other things,
more up and down, and ’round we swing.
There’s no reward for being meek.
We shout to stop appearing weak.

Amongst the rabble we create
to build ourselves worth and estate,
we’ve grown nose-blind to our own reek.
We shout to stop appearing weak.

So much of time is spent and gone
with not much left to linger on.
What’s left of us is some cruel freak;
we shout to stop appearing weak.

And now what energy is left
we waste by feeling lost, bereft;
afraid of being an antique,
we shout to stop appearing weak.

What’s worse, we learn by finding fault,
our flavor soured by too much salt;
our mighty roar becomes a squeak:
we shout to stop appearing weak.

So many years, so many miles;
we just remember tears, not smiles,
’til we are judged by one critique:
we shout to stop appearing weak.

07 MAY 2025

Anti-Virus: a complaint or lamentation

Published on May 3, 2011

I wonder how the world would be
if thirty years ago,
instead of playing thankless gigs,
a soundbyte of a show

I’d done when merely seventeen
(and better then, than now)
would have been made, and hit the ‘net
(God knows exactly how),

gone viral, and been seen worldwide.
Would I have been star?
I wonder, would I then have bothered
LEARNING the guitar?

By that, I mean becoming part,
just part, of what it means
to gain through time some mastery,
by living in between

the wanting and the knowing how,
the skill and the desire,
each note both torture and caress,
both kindling and the fire.

True art is more a crucible
where souls are bent and forged,
than an exciting carnival
where egos are engorged.

I wonder now, when looking back,
on things that could have been;
and thank the gods for then and now,
and the time in between.

What good would I be if back then
I’d caught on like a flame?
I would have not learned anything,
and been, today, just lame.

03 MAY 2011

Decoration Day: a complaint or lamentation

Published on April 10, 2004

Bang the drum and sound the horn!
Wash and press the uniforms.
From each window flags are flown;
now the troops at last come home.

Proud young sons and daughters, too;
freedom’s torch they’ve borne for you.
Through the world they’ve marched and roamed;
now the troops at last come home.

In the face of unseen dangers
they went forth, and fought with strangers,
giving of their flesh and bone.
Now the troops at last come home.

For the cause of pride and nation,
each assumed their assigned station
in the name of some unknown;
now the troops at last come home.

Trusting in their leaders’ visions,
never doubting their decisions;
each one thinks now of their own.
Now the troops at last come home.

Used as pawns in plays for power,
missions logged in countless hours
’til last reveille is blown;
now the troops at last come home.

Cheered and thanked and decorated,
from the headlines they have faded;
in battalions, or alone,
now the troops at last come home.

Limousines in long lines creeping,
sounds of countless children weeping.
No more battlefields to roam;
now the troops at last come home.

Bang the drum now, slow and loud!
Drape your flags as funeral shrouds,
speak in low and somber tones:
now the troops at last come home.

Fold the flags and thank the grieving
for their service, for believing;
wrapped in concrete, wood and chrome,
now the troops at last come home.

10 APR 2004

Tag: lamentation

Shout It Out Loud: complaint

Anti-Virus: a complaint or lamentation

Decoration Day: a complaint or lamentation