Arms Of Fire

Arms of Fire

triggers of collusion
mounted
and loaded
into
empty apologies
carefully worded
so as not to
cause disruption
in
cash flow

lives
obliterated
decimated
and families crushed
beneath the blow
of
out-laws…
steel barriers to
justice
and any care
for
humanity

what can your money
buy you?

when
your bullets
have
crushed a nation

and a gun
can be gotten
as easily
as
a
lollipop

it is on you…
it is
in
your hands

filled
with the blood
of deceit
and greed
and
silence

and the
cold truth
of a country
who
is
buying
and selling…

it’s soul

Cynthia Adler
February 2018

Wind Chime

Wind Chime

Cement corridors
cracked with the weight of
unfulfilled expectations
crammed into old
discarded
Duane Reade plastic bags
and toxic water bottles
lined up in perfect disarray
like some half crazed
chorus line.

Glazed eyes wrapped in saran
keep out the cold
housed in grey and
lifeless skins,
which scurry from a yesterday
desperately
into a hope of a tomorrow
with silly putty promises
made of cheap Styrofoam
lies.

Satan’s fracking auction
held on every back street
and
alley way,
closing out estates of the soul
and suffering children
with a “what am I bid for that?”
bought and sold politicians
with two faces carved into
either side of their
head
promising everything,
while bargains are made with a devil
who never gives anything
for free.

Alice in wonderland
how serenely and solidly you sit
while a bloody grassland
framed in filth and chemical poison
lies at your feet.
ice caps crying,
boiling and melting
into a
no-man’s land.
bees in a disappearing act
form hideaways
that become
burial grounds.

Play your music you pied pipers
dancing down your
cast iron roadways.
play for all you are worth
because your fireplaces are burning
and your faces are turning to rags
and when your crying children tire
of their pacifiers,
they will strike the set
and pull the curtain
and the next thing you know…
dinosaurs and loincloths…

So take notice
and brace yourself…
the change is coming!
and if you do not rise up
all will have vanished
leaving no trace of what was
except for perhaps
some old Duane Reade plastic
bags
blowing somewhere softly in the wind
around some old rotting huge
landfill spaces.

A wry reminder of the price
of things
to come.

by Cynthia Adler

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Transcending Illusion

Transcending Illusion

(What to do after the Sky has Fallen)

by
Cynthia Adler

The stories are all there. Sometimes interchangeable. The loss of a home, a substantial fortune, a small fortune, a meager savings, a life’s work, a job that was counted on, a loss of face and faith and possibly a future…

The stories…they bubble up in the ether that was once the rarified air of America, the seemingly solid ground of patriotism and entitlement in a nation that took nothing less than the number one slot in the world’s billboard chart.

Until now. Now, we have been thrown into some kind of spinning Disney ride, and blown around until our molecules are no longer anchored in our spirit, and we find ourselves suddenly, in some strange alternate universe.

But here we are. Dust settling, hornets nests popping out all over, from a cracked and bizarre Government, to ponzi madness, to big banking bonuses and other emerging Corporate rip-offs and we wonder, who are we, and where have we landed, and most importantly…what are we to do?

The Buddhists say that when all around you is in chaos…just stop. Stop in your tracks and do nothing. Nothing. But we are Americans…we cannot do nothing! Nothing is not in our genetic make-up. We need a fix-it plan. We need to go into action immediately and shore up the dam, marshal the troops, and make it all go away.

But it’s not going away. Not right now. And maybe the Buddhists have something there…because when you stop, you can really see the landscape, what’s been going on all around you, and finally, just how long this has been coming on. And that realization, may possibly floor us.

For it hasn’t only been these past eight years that have gotten us to where we are today. It has been decades of drowning eco-systems and mass unconsciousness and elective passivity, with a Corporate system that has masterminded the running of this country for eons and a population that has chewed on false promises while choking itself on mindless hours of television, techno toys, and excess in everything from food, to things we never even wear or ever use.

So what do we do?

No one really knows the answer to that. But the best plan may be to look at this broken mountain as some cosmic opportunity to shift, to turn away from the fixed images of our lives and re-vision. To examine loss, and what that means to us on an individual basis and as a whole nation. And to take action. Not in the marches, not in the posters, but real action. Ah…and how do we do that?

Well…that is the real question now, isn’t it.

Wonder what the Buddhists would say about that one…

 
 
 
 

Holding Pattern For 9/11

Holding Pattern
For 9/11

I am awakened
To the silent scent of
Ash
Paper ideologies
Drifting gently to the ground
In balletic surrender.

That morning,
The crystal morning,
That battered illusion
And ripped the remnant
Of a perceived safety
Has made us
One skin,
One nervous system,
Moving in molecular prayer
To transform the
Ancient rage
That shaped itself into
Taut missiles
And hurled itself into the looking glass,
When no one was looking.

We are a light show
Hyping the wattage
To force-feed the
Future,
While a band of soldiers plays with
Explosives and
Spores
And our surrogate fathers
Carry to term
A master plan
As we lay in their hands
Coiled in
Suspended meditation.

We are a nation of
Conditional beauty
And naive grace,
Shaken courage
And stunned silence
Kept at bay
With the deep distraction
Of techno toys
And tinker toys
And celebrity sightings
And the agendas of
Media management.

I am glued to the present,
Moving through crowds
With compassionate trepidation
And a deep love
For
My fellow traveler,
Bargaining and bartering
With the saints
To prevail
In this sea of unpredictable
Events.

I am hoping to stay
Balanced,
On the wall,
Not to crack,
Not to fall,
As I watch the heart
Try to repair
Economic lines,
Religious rancor
and self-obsession,
While the touching of colors in hands
And eyes
Move to the strains of
God bless America
And I wonder at
The irony
And why
It takes this,

To get here.

Cynthia Adler
November, Two-thousand and One

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Occupation

Occupation

Intensified collective
rising up.
A sea of oppressed
soul marchers
making way onto the
encrusted infrastructure
of a diseased corporate
takeover.

Pulling to task
the empty heartbeats and frozen veins
that have served
death warrants
onto the very lifelines of
a nation.

A slam bang chess game
played out
in secret halls,
on fattened hills
and greed-fueled exchanges,
using humans as
pawns and guinea pigs
while spinning
empty promises
leading up to a fast
and blindsided
checkmate.

The crowds will expand
in volume,
in voice,
and in controlled rage.
This frozen sand pile will never move
unless drowned
in its own underlying
whirlpool
wrenched from
its posts
pulled from its locked down
moorings
and stripped of its
power.

The voices are growing
and they will shake
the demonic giants
who have planted poison,
raped, pillaged, gagged
and cut the flow of
human dignity.

The people are collecting
muscle,
mass,
infusing the
airwaves
and
holding fast
for an end
to
this endless
nightmare.

 

But what will they do
as winter’s air rushes in,
as encampments freeze
and long for shelter.

The mad dogs are waiting…
waiting
for the mass retreat,
the slinky back down,
for the faceless ones
to finally
go home.

So the people must move…
into second phase
stronger,
more daring,
shaking the foundation,
roaring into the ears
of the lions and bulls
that change is here
game over.

by Cynthia Adler

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Why Mickey Should Run

Why Mickey Should Run
by
Cynthia Adler

Wanna be President?

Well…you might just be in luck! It seems that lately, this is a country where you don’t really need a lot of experience to apply for the job. Your speeches could promise everything (even if you don’t deliver), and you could appoint various family members to help run some of the government agencies for you! And…you could hang out wherever you want, protected by a swarm of security teams, all paid for by the people of this wonderful country. Whew!

And while you might need something of a higher profile to do that, it could really come from anything…an Oprah Winfrey, an Alec Baldwin…Hey, even a Donald Trump could run!

But in this digital age, where spin-doctors twist your brains around and little PR gremlins work the ear much quicker than the eye, people are confused. Many are not sure now that they have anyone to rely on anymore, and sadly, many do not even have the impetus to vote!

But oddly enough, there is a light in this strange political darkness for the next election. A candidate with a strong resume and a powerful name recognition. A candidate that yes, has lent his name to many commercial products, but unlike some others, he never ever took a penny from any of them! And, a candidate without a hidden agenda, who would gladly commit to a sane eight-year term and just might follow through on his promises…

And that candidate is…


Mickey Mouse!

Yes. Mickey Mouse. I know it may sound a bit radical, but hear me out.

You cannot find a candidate with more integrity today. Want to abolish the use of unlabeled GMO’s in so much of our food supply? Heavy metals and fracking with toxic chemicals sneaking into the waterways? And what about all those gag orders and threats blocking those non-invasive alternative cures from coming into this country? Well in that case, Mickey is your guy. He knows where all the dead mice are buried to hide the frightening results from the thousands of food and medical experiments that have been done on them. And Mickey’s not taking any chances!!?

And Mickey would appoint someone like Donald Duck as Secretary of Agriculture to head the FDA. Someone who would not go into collusion with big corporations to suppress evidence, or let them buy their way out of laws that are meant to protect people. No cuddling up with lobbyists to pass on any cancer causing pesticides or drugs with life threatening side affects. Oh no. He knows for all those kids out there with ADD, allergies, learning disorders and autism (just to name a few), Daisy would shove his head in the oven before he could even collect a dime. And Mr. Duck understands that he better “lighten that toxic load,” so to speak, or he could be labeled a “quack.”

And what about the EPA? Well…not to stray too far from American tradition… no better choice than Goofy!… Need I say more?

Foreign policy? Look no further than Epcot in Disney World. Countries from all over the world living side by side, in peace and harmony. So what can Mickey see from his window? He can see Mexico, Italy, France, Africa, China, Norway and Morocco. And… he can even go there for breakfast if he wants!

Also…Mr. Mouse is completely loved and adored by every head of state that ever was a young child. He has no vendettas to avenge, no rich cronies to give incomprehensible tax breaks to, and as for oil…too crude and too messy to deal with. Goodbye oil… hello alternative fuel! (made from the massive amounts of garbage collected from Disney World every hour!)

And might I add, that you will never ever see Mickey try to grope a female Disney visitor, no matter how big her chest is, or how much leg she shows. Mickey wouldn’t ever-ever brag about any female conquests in his life. Mainly…because there aren’t any!

And how refreshing is this…Mickey thinks a “Spicer” is just something you stick on food if it tastes too bland. He thinks Tweeting is what he hears from the fake bird sounds coming out from those speakers in Disney World. And…if you happen to mention Tea Party to him? All he can think of is a steaming cup of hot water with lemon and honey. What a relief!

I’m so glad we live in a democracy and can choose a President. But what do we really know? I only know what I’m fed from a corporate-owned media or some endless dog-and-pony show…

Believe me…this is a no brainer! And what have we got to lose?

Hey…if we’re already living in a cartoon…
why not go all the way?!

Mickey Mickey…he’s our man…

 

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