The War

Djembe Ferran Jordà via Compfight


Ba dum.  Ba dum.  Ba dum. Ba dum.

War drums beat in the distance.

Ba dum.

She’s beside herself beside herself, so angry.

Oh, let me write a few words from my 1st world comfort.

Ba dum.

Oh, I’ll change the world in my pajamas complaining.

The status quo lays down a visceral attack.

The pendulum swings as the other side does the same

Masked as counterintuitive

Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba

A war of words, may the best blog win.

To arms! Tribe Assemble!

A year later, no tangible change.

Blogs used as tennis rackets, zero-love.


Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba dum.

She’s mad enough to spit napalm, she’s knee deep in it.

A terrible, ridiculous horrible day interrupted the pattern enough

Perspective.  Was blind, now she sees.

She walks outside, breathes in her city.

Ba dum.

Feels the heartache, as tangible as the heat on her neck.

Ba dum.

She walks, making friends of strangers, asking what they want.

What do you need?  What do you wish you had?


A day well spent.

She had no idea if it will work, but she will work.

On herself, changed people change people.

She decides to start. Drums beating

Ba dum.  Ba dum. Ba dum.

The war has begun, she laughs to herself over the deafening chatter.

“I was playing it safe before.  Never again.”

Ba dum. Ba dum.  Ba dum…



[Poem #156]

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