God Save The Queen

… from Donald Trump.

I know that some of my readers live in the UK. I cordially invite you to join more than one million of your countrymen and women, in signing a petition to ban the ostensible president of my country from being received in your country for an official state visit.

Here’s a link.

Trump is a vile, vapid, vulgar little tyrant whose putrid character is utterly devoid of any redeeming qualities. His personality has all the taste and discernment of a small lump of molding cheddar.What’s more, he’s simply a mad dictator who, if he’s not stopped soon, will rain sorrow and suffering, hate and discontent, on people here in the US and far abroad.

So feel free to tell him, “none shall pass,” and trust me that no right-minded American will take the slightest offense.

Cheers!

Want of foresight, unwillingness to act when action would be simple and effective, lack of clear thinking, confusion of counsel until the emergency comes, until self-preservation strikes its jarring gong – these are the features which constitute the endless repetition of history.

~ Winston Churchill

Withdrawal

Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for. Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us. We need hours of aimless wandering or spates of time sitting on park benches, observing the mysterious world of ants and the canopy of treetops.
~Maya Angelou~

Let Them Not Say

Let them not say:   we did not see it.
We saw.

Let them not say:   we did not hear it.
We heard.

Let them not say:     they did not taste it.
We ate, we trembled.

Let them not say:   it was not spoken, not written.
We spoke,
we witnessed with voices and hands.

Let them not say:     they did nothing.
We did not-enough.

Let them say, as they must say something:

A kerosene beauty.
It burned.

Let them say we warmed ourselves by it,
read by its light, praised,

and it burned.

Jane Hirshfield, 1953

Our Better Angels

When I walked into my kitchen this morning, a disembodied computer voice roused itself and said to me:

“Good morning, Kyle. Today is Barack Obama’s last day as President of the United States. He is the 44th president and the first African American elected to that office. Thank you, Mr. President.”

I felt at once sad and grateful, angry, nauseated, and infected by despair. “Yes, thank you and thank you,” I thought, “but my God what have we done?”

This evening I wrote a blog post about my apprehension and my thoughts on citizenship, and posted that on another website. You can read it here, if you’re so inclined.

Here on Metaphor, I’ll just say that by my clock it’s after midnight in Washington DC; it is January 20, 2017. Thank you, Mr. Obama, and your wife and family, for your service and sacrifice offered with surpassing poise and manifest in good faith.

God bless and save America.

 

The Engine

We argue about flowers
We raise our voices
and the flowers stand
proudly in the withering light

From another room
they simply whisper hush

We never cared about flowers
This is just steam from the engine
that drives the great shafts
of our darkness

A wonderful machine
covered with flowers

 

J. Kyle Kimberlin

Creative Commons Licensed

All Who Wander

I was born out of Heaven
onto Earth and my life
is in this place.

I was born with a craving for stillness
and music that sways a little
like trees in the wind.

I was born out of Heaven
meant for Heaven and somehow
got delayed, drawn here because
I heard you crying
and knew I would be loved.

For a moment here with you, I
will not be missed in the eternity
to which I’m traveling.

When I arrive, I will find the house
well lit and a soft bed
and music in the sky.
But I will miss this home.

J. Kyle Kimberlin
2nd Draft 12.21.2016

Creative Commons Licensed

A Credo for the Year’s Shortest Day

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.

– Robert Fulghum