Complex confusing and contentious conversations may prevail
When sundry family members to the wide world do disperse
Traveling from home-based roots, trekking far beyond the pale
Lessons learned young may not survive from cradle to hearse

Or lessons taught are planted deep, rooting values far too well
When elders change their diet, cultivating growth, a hoped-for boon.
Kith and kin, craving succor lost, become confused, rebel
Rebellion cast in righteous, rigid anger calcifies all too soon

Time’s fullness may again bring the scattered clan together
Weddings, births, sickness, death may briefly turn the tide
Till clashing values, views collide, a lightning crash mid stormy weather
And teach us that those we should love best we simply can’t abide

Child is father to the man some ancient sages so discourse
Yet brutal nurture oft floods the fragile wellspring of nature
Other father figures feed the nascent river from another source
While mothers rue the strife seen in their children’s future


Such guiding hands and minds may prove feminine or masculine
Names, mere labels, signifying  traits expressed, not gender
Sugar girls and spicy women may stand tall with ramrod spine
Boys and men, brawny brutes may guard, hide a heart most-tender

Could changing labels, names bring change into the world?
Confuse us all for long enough to change our headlong course
Encourage all thoughts, traits and feelings in every boy and girl
Then let them choose their role in life, arising from their source

Or have we marched too far toward our own demise already?
Juggling greed, fear, hate and war as we teeter on the brink
Does no olive branch grow that we might grasp and steady?
Or did we step into the air, eyes closed, the briefest blink?

Perhaps the fat cats, those powerful fools, pushed us o’er the edge
Capering on the precipice, sabers raised in their brief triumph
The chain between the rich and us too stout to catch upon a ledge
Yanks them screaming into the abyss as they fall right behind us

Home Redux

Will our scant remnant seed pierce the earth to grow again?
Such hubris, or are we simply a failed experiment of god?
Soon forgotten, unlamented swept into a cosmic dust bin
Can we not slow our pace to doom, to ponder and to nod?

Who knows truly what the future offers, what promise it may hold
Though many signs and warnings point our path toward cataclysm
Held hostage by a callous, frightened few who clutch tight their gold
Poor, embattled, pushed away each moment widening the schism

Is considered thought, a change of mind, considered much too late?
Cannot we see that mutually assured destruction leads to death?
Or believing some god, a capital G deity, consigns us to our fate
We’ll swear we’ve not gone too far while breathing our last breath

Complex confusing and contentious destruction does prevail
Since sundry humanity to the wide world did disperse
Traveling from home-based roots, trekking far beyond the pale
So now the few rule all unto our doom, thoughts only of their purse

Brent Harris Fine Art
Philip Brent Digital Art and Photography

The Pen’s Might ~ Philip Brent Harris
The Extra Mile
Art, clothing and other gift items

Pacifica, CA 94044

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