Please and Thank You.

When did civility become a
white chalk drawing left out
in a summer storm?
Remember when reason
was a slow moving train
passing through every
town and belt-Bible, barley,
and business suits too?

Now compromise is a locked
door, constructed of egos and
dogma. We the people fatigued
with all the discordant noise,
huddle under blankets
decorated in red, white
and the feeling of blue.

Living on a prayer with
Bon Jovi and the blessed
Mother Mary. Could we just
get an amen and a few
politicians worth a
Hallelujah or two?

-Tosha Michelle

My thoughts on “Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile

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Southern Sunday

Random YouTube musings, song lyrics and a tune. Happy Sunday. ❤️

“Past lives couldn’t ever hold me down
Lost love is sweeter when it’s finally found
I’ve got the strangest feeling
This isn’t our first time around

Armchair Detectives

Two videos from the peanut gallery aka me. The first clip is commentary on a web sleuth who is trying to profit off of tragedy. The second video is completely silly. Happy Tuesday, lovely ones. I’m not sure posting on YT is my thing. I’m such an introvert and life is so busy, but every now and again you will find me there. I don’t want to get sucked back into social media overload though. These days, I just want to be overwhelmed with good company, wonderful books, the beauty of nature, and making the world a better place.

Armchairs and Smoking Guns

Deity in Diversity

image

Maybe someday we will
have written about humanity
and grace so much
that the paper we scribble on
will burn down
the forest of hate
that grows in casket-closed minds,
eradicating words like
racism, hate, bigotry.

The fire cleansing away
evil and ignorance.
Strike a match with
your pen.

Let’s try at least to
direct the language toward love.
Let’s keep moving the
adjectives higher and higher.
Trust the verbs to lead us,
the pin of light, to the fire.

Maybe as the trees come undone,
leaves igniting,
branches bursting with truth,
charity and clarity will rise.
Rustling beneath skin.
Love rising, tapping deep.
Opening eyes and cleaning tongues
in the dialect of compassion.
Hope slipping into the core.
Porous and large.
Looking out in every direction
until it is inside the sky,
the rocks, the moon.
Lacing the night and hearts with promise,
the rainy season finally over.

Until then, let your pens sway
against the dark waves.
Let’s push our boats against the current.
Light the candle wick.
Kiss it with fervor.
Give flame to the wind and waves.

-Tosha Michelle

Photo, my own