All Hail King ProfitAll hail King Profit, chief god of the world right now.All Hail King Profit by knittingknots
What cares him for the fate of humanity? He is lord of wealth and greed and all that glitters, for these are the true things that satisfy his being.
He hides behind the masks of pleasure and security, sometimes wearing the face of the Prince of Peace, sometimes the face of Democracy, or the face of Phobos, King Fear. Sometimes he even hides behind the mask of Righteous Indignation, but these are all fronts in his grasping hand.
In his never ending hunger, he is the cause of war, deprivation and untold human suffering, who lies and tells people that resources are infinite in a finite world, who smiles at the sight of industrial pollution as long as gain is made, who whispers, Think about the jobs while people are forced into sweatshops and to drink polluted water and breath air that will shorten their lives. He turns his back on his followers in the lower ranks as his priests downsize companies and rep
The IronyPounding the nailsThe Irony by knittingknots
deeper and deeper,
every word of hate
done in his name,
every act of exclusion,
every lie told
to make the smugness feel good,
every act of violence against
the weak, the poor, the other,
every chance mercy
How they crucify him again
as they scream
like the crowds did
at his trial
the truths he told them.
Lord, have mercy,
for we have no mercy of our own.
Rumination On a Long HistoryPerhaps it isRumination On a Long History by knittingknots
that we prefer the overlord's hand,
the feudal structure,
the noble telling us what to do,
taking his toll
from out sweat and blood,
while we weave myths
as blessed by Heaven.
Over and over again
we weave this pattern,
bearing our burdens
until the toll they take
is just too heavy,
and things explode
or someone from the overlord's ranks
breaks trust with the myth
and tries a new thing
in the end
reverts to the old patterns.
lathered in our own grief,
rinsed in our own tears,
Can we learn a new thing?
Can we teach this old dog a new trick?
That remains to be seen.
New Year's EveAnother year,New Year's Eve by knittingknots
See the lead fly
the words lie
the children cry -
winding the noose
that will hang us all
a little tighter.
FarewellFarewell,Farewell by knittingknots
all you golden ideas
from the Enlightenment,
concepts from the Renaissance,
the worth of the human.
We never fully believed in you,
and in our reaching,
our greed and grasping,
we have overstepped
with the dark clouds hanging over all,
we seem to prefer
the old ways better -
and the plunge into intentioned hatred
in the name of
no matter what the outcome.
Night ThoughtsI run my fingers, lightlyNight Thoughts by knittingknots
across the length of your thigh,
listening to you sleep;
the soft rising and falling of your breath
beneath the moon touched blankets
the only other motion.
Still, after all these years,
that one part of me who knew
I was destined to live my life alone
is amazed at your presence,
how you opened your life to me,
touched me with gentle hands,
who lets me cry, and rage,
and sing and dance,
and who puts up with my cooking,
and who opened an entire world to me,
and taught me what it means to love.
Our years together
one bright braid I would trade for nothing.
Waiting in the SnowNow as the snow falls,Waiting in the Snow by knittingknots
and I stand beneath gray skies
waiting there to see
if you will return today,
if you will return today,
How silent the air,
how empty the road ahead,
and yet hope warms me
even while I shiver here,
even while I shiver here.
O wind that mocks me,
your touch like his sweet caress
across my soft cheek,
but his never was so cold,
but his never was so cold.
Snow Woman, do not mock me
As I stand and wait
The stories say you loved once,
The stories say you loved once.
Once Upon a TimeI miss the way the kitchen smelledOnce Upon a Time by knittingknots
when she beat up the batter for pumpkin pie,
the metallicky smell of her Sunbeam mixer
the smell of ginger and cloves and cinnamon,
the taste of chocolate cake batter
scraped from the bottom of the bowl,
smells and tastes of Grandma.
I miss the excitement she had at Christmas,
how she decked out the house
with Rudolph and Dancer and Prancer,
silly animated Santas,
a tree done all in red and gingham,
filled with packages underneath,
memories of Mother.
I remember racing to see my Christmas stocking --
there was always an orange,
back in the days I could still eat oranges,
bulging out the toe,
and silly cheap toys that were fun for a day,
and too much chocolate -
memories of once upon a time.
And today I look out at the snow,
and feel their absence,
all the people who made those memories shine
and wish the Ghost of Christmas Past
would come and pay me a visit.
The Last RoseHere - the last pink roseThe Last Rose by knittingknots
that I will cut this season
since the snow has come
and wilted all the buds there,
with all their hopes of blooming.
The last one I cut
before the sun went hiding
behind a gray veil
sifting snow upon my head
the wind now sings its cold song.
Soft pink the petals
they wont last much longer, though.
Too hard to cheat time
for more than just a moment,
real life is harder than dreams.
Soon its sweet perfume
will be just a memory.
Should I just scatter
its petals in the white snow,
returning what I once took?
PanpipesPan, with a goatish grin,Panpipes by knittingknots
plays his pipes,
the soft siren sounds
the ladies' lacy longings.
as they dance around him,
sweat drops dripping between
as they sigh into the night,
fire burns in shadow.
He might just score.
Heat TreatmentIn the sultry heat,Heat Treatment by knittingknots
she poured the clear, cool water
in a wooden cup,
and lifting it, she trickled
the water over her head.
In the amber light
of the oil lamp, he watched her,
watched how the water
ran in shining rivulets
down the length of her long hair.
It trickled across
her forehead, capturing the light,
her bangs transforming
into ebony petals
dripping dew onto her cheeks.
He watched one lone stream
trickle down between her eyes
down the shapely ridge
of her perfect to him nose,
and reaching out, he caught it.
there at the tip of her nose,
he smiled as she watched
him handing her a towel.
Does that really help? he asked.
Autumn ThoughtsBeyond the pale, that hidden fence just past my comfort zone,Autumn Thoughts by knittingknots
beyond the line where safety lurked, a land of wind and bone --
I remember well my walking there at times when I was young,
amid the shadows of the trees, where mysteries were sung,
where banshees wailed and satyrs danced and the drum beat loud and long
where trees hid many shadows it was there when I was young.
But now the ghosts are friendlier, companions of the way,
and the fence has long since fallen down with misuse and decay.
I am not the girl I used to be back then when I was young --
I have heard so many songs and felt the shadows they have flung,
the banshee lets me know the time, the satyrs have flat feet,
and Pan is just another guy who lives just down the street ---
but mystery intrigues me still, and I wonder loud and long,
but are my answers wiser now than those when I was young?
I Hate Alarm ClocksI Hate Alarm ClocksI Hate Alarm Clocks by knittingknots
(A Hunter's Wife's Lament)
Retiring I am at two,
hubby's alarm went off at seven
though he didn't leave here til eleven
hunting for birds rough and blue,
I may serve him snooze button stew
while I grouse.
Grouse are interesting things
Freeze like a stick if they notice you,
Even if you miss'em a time or two
But waking up to the snooze alarm rings
makes me want to give it wings
until it hits a wall.
But soon it will be the song of the duck
calling for much earlier rising --
It wouldn't be all that surprising
If I get him to pack up his truck
and give him a kiss just for luck
all before my bedtime.