“The Wild Flower Blooms”, “Whose Blood?”, “Born Without A Label”

July 24, 2014 at 6:40 am (Uncategorized)
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“The Wild Flower Blooms” by Trevor Witt

The wild flowers grow,
Without human hands,
Without my interference,
Without my pesticide protection.

The wild flowers grow in sunlight,
With the help of the rain,
Without any sprinkler,
Without fertilizer to feed them.

The wild flowers bloom,
In my heart and in yours.

As wild as the lion,
As beautiful as the rose,
The wild flower blooms,
No matter what else grows.

“Whose Blood?” by Trevor Witt

“Whose blood cries out to me?”
Shouted G-d at the angels guarding the Earth.
“Whose blood cries out to me?
Does it belong to peasants or men of great worth?”

The angels, perplexed, and scared as they were,
Replied, “We were not watching, but only singing your praise.
Please forgive us, for we were absent on duty,
We never imagined for this to happen, not since ancient days.”

G-d said, “The blood of Abel cried out to me,
And you think I would not hear,
The blood of all my creatures,
The blood of creations I hold dear?

Is it the blood of the woman killed by a jealous lover?
Or the blood of the man robbed and killed in his shop?
Is it the blood of an elephant killed for his ivory tusks?
Or is it the blood of a woman raped and killed after dusk?

Is it the blood of women who died in childbirth?
Or is it the blood of men who died at war?
Is it the blood of the Sunnis or the Shiites?
The blood of monotheists or of those who came before?”

The angels, ashamed of not keeping watch,
Grew sad and guilty and soon began to cry,
“Oh G-d, most magnificent, most gracious on high,
Please forgive us.  Do you not see the tears bleeding from our eyes?”

…

Meanwhile, on Earth a baby was born and later peed in the doctor’s face.
G-d saw and heard this and laughed and rolled around in heaven,
“Dear angels, do not despair, for though there is much pain,
There is also joy and laughter, and I have smiled again.

Though I chastised you for falling asleep at the helm,
I am aware of all the blood spilled in my realm.

All is known to me, all is heard, and all is seen.
My anger is because you do not know this.”

“Born Without A Label” by Trevor Witt

I was born without a label,
No name tattooed upon my heart,
No country stamped upon my foot.

I was born without a label,
No religion tied to me at birth.

I was born without a label,
As is every creature on Earth.

I knew that I was human,
Because other people told me so,
But I knew that I was half-animal,
As I watched the speedy cheetahs go.

I knew that I was special,
Because I thought differently from everyone else,
But I knew that I was the same,
Because my shit stinks as everyone’s excrement smells.

I was born without a label,
Filled with blood and bile.
I was born without a label,
Only a mind filled with guile.
I was born without a tribe,
Without a language of my own,
I was born without a label,
But into one I have grown.

I was born a baby,
And will die a man.
But I am only an amalgamation of matter,
I may be buried or turn into ashes in a can.

My soul you cannot possess,
My heart you cannot chain down,
For a label-less dream,
Flies far above the ground.

And so my spirit wanders,
And hovers around my sorrow,

And so my spirit stills itself,
Still in splendid love of the beauty of tomorrow.

Born without a label,
Dead without a face,
Love lives on,
Without a physical trace.

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“Poem Before Bed”, “How Democracy Dies”

May 6, 2014 at 1:38 am (Uncategorized)
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“Poem Before Bed” by Trevor Witt

I wish I could just pour it out onto the page in one graceful, eloquent puddle of meaning.
I wish I could say exactly what I mean and not have to choose between words,
Rather letting them come to me, flowing like a river downstream,
Carrying pebbles of wisdom, and loving, nourishing words of water.
But sadly, my words do not flow like a rushing river.
They do not gently swim into my head and onto the page,
Like fish traveling with the current.

I wish I could just tear out my soul and put it on paper,
I wish I could read from my heart,
But I am left thinking, pausing, contemplating,
Every frus-tra-ting word,
Every simple thought,
Making it more complex than it needs to be,
Thinking about how everyone else will judge it,
Fearing what one person might say or think,
Because my judgments are not good enough,
My judgments carry no weight.
I am no success story.
I am no masters student.
I am no credentialed teacher.
I am just a guy, just twenty-six,
Working in a coffee shop,
Trying my best, just to get by.
I am no hero of an epic poem,
I am no wizard with the written word.
I am no silky, smooth poet,
Who lets his words drop heavy like bombs,
And yet gently like rain.

I am just a kid,
Who overthinks,
Every,
Little,
Thing.

So, now you know.
Now you know why I am quiet.
Now you know why I just can’t say everything I mean.
I prefer careful calculations,
Due to fear
Of being misunderstood,
And out of love,
For the slight nuances in meaning
Each word brings to the table.
I wish I could just spill my guts,
But it’s so juvenile,
So high school,
So over the top,
Even though, sometimes,
I feel that, if I don’t spill,
I will blow my top.

So I hope you understand,
That, as a man without a plan,
There is no way for me to command,
What I say now or what might come next,
I am not trying to write jibber jabber or a disclaimer,
But I just want you to do me this little favor.
Please, please, please don’t judge me by this one poem,
Because it is not my best, it is not my worst.
It was just something that I had to do,
To get off my chest,
So that I could rest.
And I couldn’t care less if it fails your test,
Because this one is for me.


“How Democracy Dies” by Trevor Witt

Naval ships,
Like pieces on a chessboard,
Advance the objective,
To maintain power over the adversary.
Dueling claims in the South China Sea,
Buildup in the Persian Gulf,
Conflicts around the bend.

In Ukraine,
Corrupt presidents overthrown,
“Trouble makers” taking over buildings,
Troop amassing at the border,
Special forces clearing areas of protesters and “provocateurs”,
Terrorists – acting only in the interests of some opponent whose only motivation is to oppose,
And freedom fighters – acting only to defend their freedom from some enemy whose only motivation is to take away their freedom.

Governments and politicians –
Whose job descriptions include maintaining order –
Vie for the sacred title of the “strongest”,
Wrangle over media coverage offering different points of view,
Wrestle and jockey with each other for position,
As each one knows, only they can provide real security.
Each one comes up with innovative ideas for the defense of the homeland,
As the enemy constantly evolves, designing more complex threats to overcome better defenses.

“We will crush them!”
The leader vows.
“We will wipe them off the face of the earth!”
He says, to the thundering applause of the masses.

“They are threatening your brothers, your sisters, your sons, and your wives!”
Shouts the leader.
“They hate us and are threatening our way of life,
They want to take our land and our resources.
There is no room in their narrative for us.
They will take everything they can,
All we can do is kill them,
If only there was another way!
But there is not!
We are being forced to do this!
We must defend ourselves!”
Declares the leader self-righteously.
The crowd agrees.

No one dares question the leader.
They are in power and have access to secret information.
They know all the threats that we face and deal with challenges we can only dream of.
How can any logical person question a state apparatus which has millions of people behind it?

Does the individual think that he or she knows better than millions?

This is how democracy dies.

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