Thoughts in the Dark

These poem presentations do not have expressive fonts, colours and photographs as found in the book.  View actual illustrated book pages via the EXCERPT link from the Home Page of http://www.susanchristensenbooks.com/

TELL IT LIKE IT IS

See the strained mouth,

The hollowed stare,

The conjured up smile

For the toddlers

Who don't understand

Why Daddy can't come back.

Dear Dad is now an invader

In a foreign land

Imposing his culture

On the mothers and children

Of his political enemies.

Dear Dad transformed himself.

His mirror reflects a murderer,

A bomber, a terrorist

Of children and wives.

Half a world away.

No,

"Daddy" won't be coming back.

SHADOW RIDER

Shadows stalk our fleeting moments

Insubstantial as a breeze

Or a flutter of leaves

That breaks up the strength of the sun,

Hinting at the heart of the matter:

To pass lightly over this earthly plane?

Or, leave one's mark on life?

SO, MY SOUL

See the wire mesh?
Secured to the rock face
Protecting the traveller from chunks
Of nature falling free?

Observe the maple sapling?
Poking through, so strong and limber,
Bright green in its youth,
Stretching the mesh, escaping its confines
To make a space for life?
 

So, my soul.
Pushing beyond conventions,
Stretching accepted truths
To find the freedom to be me.

In dreams, I take flight--
Beyond all restrictions
Visiting the universe.

In imagination, I drift--
Carelessly, curiously free
Searching the truth of it.

Some part of my spirit
Is a dream-catcher
Sifting wispy airy drifts

Of what could be.

THE COINED SIDE OF FORGIVENESS

The coined side of forgiveness
Is Blame.
How facile to say, "I forgive."
How nice.  How kind.
But to say to your antagonist’s face,
"I don't blame you!"
Now, that brings it home.

I blamed the source of my pain
For my thwarted and crushed dreams.
I owned that pain.  It was only mine
Only I invited it into my life
And gave it houseroom.
I was blind and knew not what I did.

Now, in exorcising that blame, and
By ceasing to blame my self,
I take responsibility
For my peace.
There can be neither guilt,
Nor blame seeping through to stain
The purity of forgiveness.

Ah, but without blame,
There is no need to forgive.

STUMBLING INTO THE FUTURE

Divorced from the earth that shaped our DNA,

Our species stumbles alone through the dark night

Of the virtual illusion we call

Twenty-first Century Life.

The global village swallows whole cultures.

Factories already replace the farms;

Consumerism has slashed our rainforests.

Cities have swamped whole communities, and

Chemicals have imitated our food.

Media idols nullify ancient heroes.

Technology is supplanting parents,

Family life is divorced from tradition.

The knowledge network is displacing faith:

Values don't survive one generation.

Specialization ousts generalization;

Instant gratification trashes long term goals;

Instant communication disrupts considered thought.

Newscasts masquerade as truth and history.

Disney twists history and fairy tales both.

Plastic has surpassed all that's natural.

Pharmaceuticals overpower death;

Computers make our hearts beat longer, while

Genetic engineering accelerates

Our journey as a species.

And,

Life As We Knew It

Is doomed

To be Virtual.

Up With Snails,

      Down With Slugs

Never say he failed—

It's not nice.

Never say she's fat—

You'll hurt her feelings.

Never laugh at racial jokes—

Differences aren't funny.

Never strike the child—

Only Mama Bears do that.

Always use euphemisms—

Political correctness rules.

Pop those bubbles—

Make kids strong.

Laugh if it’s funny—

Diversity rules.

Get a Life—

Grow a shell.

Down with slugs—

Up with snails.

Musical Equalizer

Never fitting in, he

Lived in his own narrow world.

Acid with negativity,

Rage and killing anger

Triggered by the abuse,

The verbal bullying

Of the top dogs

Paranoia, psychosis,

Voices in his head screaming,

They hate me, and
I hate them.

I'll kill 'em all.

I'll show 'em all.

Thirsting for revenge

Drinking down suicidal urges

Despair tamped down so tight

There was only one escape,

One outlet.  The fuse-

Rap.  The spark-

Beating, pounding Rage.

So wrapped in rap—so rapt.

Deep Within Old Age

I breathed, I joyed, I raged, I trudged.
I taught—inadvertently, and purposefully—
I recycled my parent’s dreams.
I spawned the next conquerors.
I advanced the cause
I passed on the torch.

Seen as sinister to be hidden away
Out of sight. Go die clinically alone.
Face your pain-free, sterile transition
From this earthly plane. You've nothing left
To contribute, so . . . Go Away!
Who needs you?
Spiritually shivering. Fearing you missed
Some meaningless, unrecognized goal.
It’s all been for naught!
There’s no dignified acceptance
Of the cycle, nor recognition of
Your place in the scheme.
Oh, deep within, one knows:
God is the Old Repairman.

I breathed, I joyed, I raged, I trudged.
I taught—inadvertently, and purposefully
I recycled my parent's dreams.
I spawned the next conquerors.
I advanced the cause
I passed on the torch.

If I Had to be Born Female

If I had to be born female,

At least I was born right here

In a nation, both strong and free.

To be a woman, a Canadian woman

I cannot be bought or sold,

Or beaten for being too bold.

My body's my own, for bearing—

Or maybe not; no fearing

I'm not submissive enough

So men must show they’re tough

To be a woman, a Canadian woman

Allows me to have education.

Allows me to vote my decision

Let's me voice opinions. Have my say!

Means I can work, earn and spend my pay.

Means I can choose who I wish to be . . .

A Miss, a Mrs. or a Ms. I'm free.