A Contemplation of the Wind

Consider for a moment:
a primordial sludge,
undisturbed by the evolution
of life.
Imagine, if you would,
the movement of air
across the lifeless planet.

Nitrogen reigns supreme,
and moving air
contains that same nitrogen
that was wafting
over a young,
but fecund,
planet.

Part of that wind
shook the banners
of Alexander the Great,
ruffled the robes of Gautama
beneath his leafy Bo,
and gave K'ung fu-tzu
pause for thought.

The winds that refresh
our every breath
have been shared
by others
who have fallen
to history’s march:
but the breeze continues.

Let us learn from the wind,
moving endlessly
through the lives of others.
Like a gentle soothing breeze,
let us offer succour,
relief and comfort,
and move, quietly, on our way.

Note:  Part of series, Cannabis and Creative Cognition, Strain:  Flowerbomb Kush

Thunderhead

The heavy stillness
is tempered only
by an errant breeze,
confused by its direction.

The birds are unnaturally quiet,
except for one radical crow,
whose warning goes unheeded,
unanswered.

The trees are solemn,
paying witness to another day,
in days filled with green
and the message of renewal.

The man and his dog
contemplate a society
in which hate and bigotry
seem a global canker.

Corporations rule,
and educate populists
incapable of learning,
but longing for the yoke.

Politicians don their jackboots
to march to the corporate anthem
their masters play:
“Of the people, for the people” is a joke.

The man knows lightning will strike:
it will be random;
it will be unexpected.
On his hill, however, tranquillity protects.

On the horizon,
every day now,
or so it seems,
darkness builds, and threatens.

Note:  Part of series, Cannabis and Creative Cognition.  Inspired by Bubba Kush

The Panic Room

When the dulling din of populism
assails me with the hate;
when the plastic politicians’ words
affect my mental state;
I lock myself in my panic room
before it is too late.

Each day we’re assailed
with broadsides of dumb,
and volleys of drooling stupidity:
I’d better run before brain is numb.
The locks are strong and they should hold
before the assault that must come.

What ever happened to peace and love,
altruism, and high ideals?
The fierce anthems of tribalism
resemble lemmings’ squeals.
In my soundproof room I shall be safe
while the bell of bigotry peals.

I’ve been here for some time,
and supplies are low,
so, thinking here in the quiet,
I decide that tomorrow out I shall go.
With kindred spirits we’ll shape a world
where empathy and reason can grow.