Squeak


The small sounds, the soft sounds,
You speak them to no reply.
You cannot be heard. Where are you bound?
To you, they say, nice try.
You say there is power in repetition,
So perhaps, but ears ignore,
They wish you speak no more.
There is no thunder under your door.
They do not know the explosion therein,
Try once more.
You can win.
Ignoring, soft sounds brings downfall,
You must find a way, to strengthen the weak,
Before the silencing of all.
You were heard, but heed not taken,
Your efforts were forsaken.
Arise at last.
Show what happens when,
Together voices blast,
From a squeak once shunned,
The power in the sound,
While once soft not heeded, united,
Becomes abused power undone.
Squeak no more,
Those who now roar.

Roger Bodo © 1/2017

Unhinged

Here I sit watching the world becoming unhinged,
The glue of cooperation, in disintegration,
Oozes and slips away as a sly dog slinks,
And a world, once somewhat together, shrinks.
The pieces become more diverse,
With smaller parts and rigid stance,
Claiming their place in a universe,
Where there is no dominance,
Only difference.

© Roger Bodo-2016

Dear America

Dear America.

Having grown up in the days when air raid drills had us crawl under school desks, having witnessed missiles in Cuba, having watched the terrible Vietnam War and its long-lasting life-damaging legacy, and seeing the blunders in Iraq and Afghanistan, I have never been as fearful for our future as I am now. It is not whether many lean left or right; it is how many of us are leaning wrong. Hateful speech, hateful actions,anti-everything is tearing us apart. How can one look to a better future when we tear down past and present people, our past glories, our brand as a caring and accepting people offering opportunity for all who make the effort to achieve and to pursue happiness and peace, not just for ourselves, but for all.

There is a term in computereze that is used to explain why a computer program (APP) goes bad: GIGO. It means Garbage in-Garbage out. If you write bad code you get bad results. With what is being written and broadcast these days, with what we are taking in, how can we hope to be empowering, positive and productive people?

Dear media and public figures: Write us some good code. Please?

Mirror Mirror On The Wall

We hear about and look at the civil strife in so many countries and shake our heads in disbelief. Yet in our short sightedness aren’t we creating exactly the same environment here that fosters the hopelessness that fires the violence of people trying to be heard, to ask for their fair share?

Here we increase the rewards to those near or at the top while diminishing the compensation of those in the middle and depriving those at the bottom.

Meanwhile, millions of dollars buy elected officials, get them elected, and direct their actions. Even if the American voter votes his or her choice, it is a choice delivered without their input. Rather, the “powers that be” determine who is available for election.

If we look in the mirrors of history, mirrors past and mirrors present, we should see the path we are also following. But it’s not too late. The greed at the top is self-destructive: Perhaps not now, not tomorrow, but soon, and sooner than any may realize. The proverbial tipping point, pointed out by historians like Toynbee, when destruction commences, is not from without but from within. It is then that the carrion will feast.

Think about the 1950s and 60s. The middle class flourished. The common family could buy a car every year or two. They took vacations to Florida, went to the races or nightclub once a week … and enjoyed peaceful parks.

Today we pay more taxes, we have less … why? Trickle down. The rich pay less taxes, the industrial tax base that provided jobs, revenue for the cities and counties, has gone offshore, and the rich build huge homes (2nd-3rd-4th) upon which they receive tax breaks, have all their amenities built in and are gated to keep the common riffraff out, except to perform yard maintenance and house repairs.

The pen may be mightier than the sword. But, is it mightier than the almighty dollar?

You of Many Angles

I have seen you from many angles.
I have trod bravely on your paths.
I have stared into your stony eyes,
And scraped the flint of your bones across my thighs.

My hands and feet have plied,
And labored upon your lands,
Staining sweat upon your Hyde,
And clawed your armored body with feeble hands.

I have jabbed you with my staff,
Come at you from every direction,
For triumph over your bones I yearn.
In the end, while I may have won,
I will never know in my heart confirm;
I can only sit and ponder you,
Only come to you time and again
To challenge, to study and to learn.
© Roger W. Bodo- I 996

Whence Comes This Rage?

Whence comes this rage,
Its suctioning threads, reaching,
Yet daring not to touch this page,
Lest it loose upon it preaching?
Lurking, in the shadows does it wait,
Lingering, smoldering, incessantly feeding,
‘Till it receives the stoking fire of hate,
Bringing it ripe for breeding;
Evils. Fears. Loss. Tears. Death. Agony.
©1995 Roger W. Bodo