O To Be Big Enough
i look for you in mist and turmoil i look for you in my pain and anger for you i seek in the myriad abysses my screams bare themselves of all clothing they strip themselves naked until there is only bone i listen all of my days to the faint echoes from a tiny voice through lens and sound i scour the night stars for a vision of you and there in the midst of all depravity in the flooding grimace of winning vileness in the unceasing torment of murdering war in the folly of the jackals of the soul's poverty in the deluge falling skyward in the vanity of brokers in the wind fall of those who live free of the rest of us i find you standing with rock hard obedience in the service of greed for you living in the wounded distance i offer my full healing embrace as a prayer as determination as longing watered in hopelessness to shower your life of horrendous despair caused by warriors of all countries and like a tall stranger bending to tell a child that its love is all that counts make for you a tabernacle of my opulence and the very substance of my soul there in the endless storms of grief rapid-fired from human hate i reach a hand of solace but it is too late i cannot drag you from the ruins which are taking you from us i cannot convince the powerful to stop your suffering nor the most powerful from reversing time in your lands of starvation and days of war in the grief of your families and friends the shape of what could have been but will never be in the numbness of class difference and causes of dominance in the pain caused by inattention and clinging o to be big enough to set you free
Hate No More
You do not forget. The story must unfold to live inside you. To become a lasting flame, one to cherish, a human tale, to teach others what to feel. Arrogance must never win, must never again be allowed its triumph inside the many burning skins of those who lived to suffer in the hands of tyranny. One day they will all have gone, replaced by other stories just as wrong. Until we are strong enough in the thorns of misery, to say for the rest of time, from deep within, hate no more.
The Ruins these are not buildings of stone but selves of flesh built to hold our meat housed minds we believe in our solidity in our ability to reach out and crush i see ruins a city laid waste by an idea of war i see a sorrowful moment in a hospital room when someone loved must die i see the tears and rain i see it pouring through our hearts and i know its purpose to wash hatred from inside us and send it back into the ground the timeless healer of all despair i see the farmer come to tend his field of thriving flowers and unwanted weeds spreading coats of poison to profit us and kill all else
Charles Goldman is first a Poet. Dear to his heart is the study and work connected with all things of Spirit. He finds himself defining a poetic reality in such a way that it may live inside the subconsciousness of others. Charles has written under the nom de plume Doctori Sadisco. He sends his love for a good life. May the living world survive our arrogance and rage. He lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.