Eric . Eric .

Celebrate

The American Flag

There is a great power in recognizing mistakes -and in this case America’s “mistakes” are evil, the awareness of which allows us to grow and change. We cannot bring awareness if we ignore, or blot out the dark chapters of our history. What better time than during a national holiday celebrating the birth of this country to reflect on the wrongs committed against others? This toddler nation, with only 250 years of history, has accomplished so much because of the technological boom, but there is still so much potential to be captured. Every American is not treated as equal, and many Americans are actively having their rights stripped from them each month. Imagine if we could bridge the gap between all walks of life and infuse our society with a system of values and laws that accurately reflected what each American needs. What greatness could we achieve that would propel us forward? That is the purpose of this poem, to draw attention to a dark and evil past while shedding light on all the potential our future has. It is aimed at the youth because they hold the fate of this nation in their hands.

Happy Fourth of July!

Celebrate young patriots,

A mighty nation birthed with determination.

The global superpower that toppled evil.

Celebrate young patriots,

A nation that massacred another-

Stole their land and gave them only a portion.

Celebrate young patriots,

The genocide of a continent’s occupants.

Celebrate young patriots,

Ships with tall sails and halls full-

Of humans hunted from their own homes.

Celebrate young patriots,

The slavers whip as it tears human flesh.

Celebrate young patriots,

A mighty nation bloodied by civil war-

Over the enslavement of people.

Celebrate young patriots,

A country segregated by melanin.

Celebrate young patriots,

Women whose rights are not theirs-

Whose bodies are legislated by men in cheap suits.

Celebrate young patriots,

A country whose DNA flows with evil ignored.

Celebrate! Celebrate! Celebrate!

Oh, young patriot, celebrate!

You are the future youth will remember.

Oh, young patriot, celebrate,

Never to forget-

The terrible and the great-

That is your fate.

Oh, young patriot, celebrate!

The power of the people to change their destiny-

To make those in power tremble with mighty fear.

Oh, young patriot, celebrate!

This nation is yours to shape for the better.

Join hands with those from different paths.

Oh, young patriot, celebrate!

The strength of each adventure –

A new string of DNA.

Oh, young patriot, celebrate!

That you are no more the sum of your past-

Then the choice of your present.

Oh, young patriot, celebrate!

A future filled with equality for all.

Or watch this mighty nation fall.

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Eric . Eric .

Hurt Yourself

A tragic poem about two loves with different views on the relationship.

Heartbreak is probably one the greatest enigmas of humanity: we do everything in our power to avoid the pain, yet our actions of avoidance steer us directly into heartbreak. A few days ago I had a thought about a recent love lost: “What if the walls we built to protect ourselves from harm were the very walls that kept us from the love that would protect and nourish us?” Less complicated: love is what protects us, not walls, tests, and distance. To many of us love is a binary code we plug and play in various situations to create outcomes that match expectations we do not understand. Our love, though, is only as powerful as our connection to ourselves. We cannot produce love greater than our internal love for ourselves: if your love for yourself is toxic or anemic, your love for others will be toxic or anemic. Through connection with our inner self, we learn how to love more fully. This should be taught in our most formative years as children, but the generations that have raised today’s adults spent their childhood surviving great global turmoil: all they knew was survival, all they could teach their children was survival. And so, here, this next generation sits —with great abundance and great choice: do we continue as the generation in survival mode or evolve?

I believe the best way to love, especially if you are still healing and growing, is by finding people who want to support you. A telephone pole supports the telephone wires, it does not ask them to be anything more or anything less. That is the tragedy of this poem: two people coming together with different views of themselves and goals for the relationship and it ends in pain. The last stanza can be read from either perspective and represents the dual nature of reality.

You said to me:
We shouldn’t get together.
You said to me:
I hurt people. 

I said to you:
I am responsible for my choices. 
I said to you:
Let's heal together.  

You had no words,
We were no more. 
You hurt yourself,
More deeply than you could ever hurt me.
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Eric . Eric .

Slaves to a Wisp

I wrote this poem in 2009 and edited it in 2023. This particular poem I am not going to give much explanation for. Instead it is intended for the reader to derive their own meaning and purpose from this words.

The air was cold.

A dismal grey

 Lit the way:

Birds sang mellow song.

And the wind stood still,

In meadows dying

No life was near.

 

But as the ‘morrow shone bright

And caressed by celestial rays,

The air warmed to the touch,

Birds sang their glorious songs,

And green meadows danced in the wind,

As rays of gold lit the day:

Life was near.

 

With a clap like a cannon!

And a strike as a whip!

The wind roared in wild fury.

And meadows danced in horror,

As darkness surveyed the land wide.

Beauty was swept in a violent fit.

In a horrible mask, contained;

Imprisoned by the fury of the night,

Chained to trees wild with rage.

Lost until the tempest was dissuade,

Life coward at its feet

 

Left to repeat this dismal being,

Tricked by illusions of time,

Deceived by hope never received,

Wander the dreams of time past.

Prisoners to their master.

Slaves to a wisp.

 -EJB

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Eric . Eric .

Living for the End

Are you living to get somewhere or are you alive?

Words have their own rhythm which we abandon when we focus too much on grammar and what is technically correct. The colons in this stanza are not used correctly; however, they exist to contrast and enhance the message that for many life is a race to the next point often without recognition of where they were. A colon draws a direct relationship between two points; here the colon shows that without existing for now there is no relationship with then.

Like ants they scurry across the face of the planet:

Wake up: eat.

Eat: commute to work.

Work: take a lunch.

Lunch: return to work.

Work: commute to home.

Home: eat.

Eat: Sleep

Repeat

 

-EJB

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Eric . Eric .

There is a Building

A poem about life.

I found this poem on my phone the other day and knew it was a great way to get back to poetry and writing. The simple structure of the stanzas is intended to leave the reader reflecting on the words and the imagery created in them. As with all poetry pay attention to the punctuation as they reflect the feelings you should experience throughout this poem.

 

There is a building:

On the far side of the sea.

 

I have not been there.

But I can see that building, grand.

 

One day,

When the call is made:

I will find that building:

On the far side of the sea.

 

A’non that day

I will explore,

And find all his treasure.

 

I will go there in peace.

No fears of mine to haunt me:

No worries left inside me:

On the far side of the sea

 

And when the days taunt me,

Harrow me, and fight me,

I will think of the building:

On the far side of the sea.

 

Now, I lay my head

Upon this pillow

My fears, washed away.

 

There is a building.

On the far side of the sea.

 

As I wake in the morning,

Look around to see,

There is no building:

On the far side of the sea

 

Though toils of the day burden me

I remember the sensation of that night,

Not so far gone.

 

When my worries,

My fears,

My dreams,

Haunted me:

On the far side of the sea.

 

I now look across,

And pity the loss:

My life was wrecked

On the far side of the sea.

 

Here now, my pity

Floats away from me

My life has now found its peace:

On the far side of the sea.

 

In that building:

On the far side of the sea

-EJB

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