Awaken the night
feeling a fire,
new moon of fortune, new moon desire.
Headlights randomly spray
stray light           in the wake
of a few restless souls, little left
to forsake.

Window cracked slightly, aware of the noise,
discounting discomfort, confronting a choice.
A season of change and mysterious ways
growing weary of colour,
and
tired of the days.

A breath wholly taken in the good name of fear,
exhale in silence,
the silence found here.
Winter is going, but never soon enough,
it’s the waiting for the waiting that
makes it so tough.

Test pattern sheds light on the night’s darkest hour
before pre-dawn confusion from a much higher power.
Sanctimonious lessons in a stiff designer suit
no lack of words, she knows what to do.

Obey,
fall in line
or
fall out of grace,
Heaven, in her good judgment,
is a judgmental place.
New moon wonder,
new moon is now,
unconscious thought enlightens somehow.

To be mindful of a future only makes sense
stop reviewing past actions in solely past tense.
Breathe it all in,
as you listen and learn,
question your morals and for what you may yearn.

No dreams for the restless, wandering their way,
few thoughts for the weary with so much to say.
New moon,
new cycle,      falls into sight
dilemmas become clearer when the days become bright.

©2016 j.g. lewis

The spontaneity of life’s
humanity deftly narrated
printed in his own words.
We can read not what was there
but what he saw.
Unlike those who came before.
Now another dead poet
amongst the others we know
those who breathe substance
onto the page
into the world
so generously documented for us.
He was an American
who travelled
‘dwelt in a hundred cities
where trees were books’
who wrote of the country he knew.
Its people occupied
streets beyond the periphery
of his soul.
Perception personified.
An autobiography,
he gave to us a focus
so we could feel
an America
more sharply delineated
than a history book
or with more colour than
the six o’clock news.
A parade ended Monday
but the beat lives on.

© 2021 j.g. lewis

“I see another war is coming
But I won’t be there to fight it.
I have read the writing
on the outhouse wall.
I helped Kilroy write it.”

Lawrence Ferlinghetti
1919 – 2021

Rest in peace

Globalization was once the buzzword of politicians, business leaders and various masters of the universe; a term used to signify the potential for growth and prosperity sold to us, at one time, as a most favourable destination.

We, as a society (and not only that of the Western world), bought into the theory, the practice, and then the reality. We began to think past local, provincial and national, and began to look globally.

Now, amidst the expansion and contraction of rationalizations and realizations, we can only question if we have come too far too fast. The stress cracks have been noticeable over the past few decades as economies merged and borders vanished.

At one point everything looked good and the potential for peace and promise became more than possibility. We began to see the world respond to the tragedies and calamities on the other of the globe. As technologies increased and access to a greater range of media became more readily available, we began to see results as everything, everywhere, became virtual reality as swiftly as it was broadcast.

There was a wave of kindness and charity countering a tsunami, and worldwide aid rushing in response to drought and famine, and terrorism. You could, many times over, have greater faith in humankind, and could believe, over and again, that the world was growing smaller and we were becoming this global village often talked about.

Our virtues and values were fortified. We both celebrated and commiserated with strangers. Commonalities with people of other places, faiths, and circumstance, became obvious and readily available. ‘Friends’ took on a new meaning.

But with any group of people, in any limited space, the walls started closing in. We now see, at closer range, the faults of our newfound brethren. Jealousies, differences, and indifference, grew more common as forthright opinion filled our minds and media.

We could see it, hear it, loathe it, and then (with such easy access to this amazing thing called the Internet) complain about it.

Day to day in the globalized news, we are bombarded with concerns, conspiracy theories, innuendo, false truths and alternative facts. We quickly learn about this planet’s atrocities before the blood stains have even dried on the sidewalks or prayer rugs. We listen to the firsthand hatred of the bigots and bullies with the frequency of weather forecasts.

And if you listen to it long enough, or deeply enough, you become sucked into the realm of anxiety and fear.

The cracks on the surface have never been more obvious and we find ourselves wondering where it can take us, and what should we do.

We can’t turn it off, it seems. Those who want to make their views known can do so with the do-it-yourself social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook, and they can do so with an unwritten protocol and unpronounced shame.

I, too, can and do, right here. But, I like to think I exercise responsibility if not common sense and respect. I can’t say everyone has the same sort of moral compass. I can also be ignored, or avoided, if that is your choice.

It is difficult to avoid the proliferation of bullshit and bad judgement that seeps through the cracks of the conveniences we have come to rely upon. It is impossible to think of simply steeping away from the virtual behaviour that has become an integral part of our lives. We source our news online, we shop online, bank online, we communicate and carry on online.

Now, while this planet is screaming with pain, is not the time for complacency, but more a time to be more selective with what you read or follow. There are things happening that will impact our lives in ways we cannot fathom, and you should not be swayed by image and entertainment value.

Take stock of what is important to you. Find channels or themes that might bolster your spirits rather than deplete your emotional well-being. You cannot settle with only what is on the surface, but don’t get caught in the cracks.

© 2017 j.g. lewis

It’s popular, and it’s alarming.
   Plagiarism has become a bigger problem than ever, and more apparent as social media further casts its spell across every platform and screen. Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest are all full of bright shiny examples; you see it all the time.
   It’s out there. It is trending.
   A disturbing, disrespectful act, plagiarism is stealing, passing off the ideas or words of another person as one’s own. Examples lack credit or attribution.
   I’ve called out a couple of people over the past few months for blatant misuse of quotes belonging to someone else.
   One person, a couple of times on her social media feeds, matched lovely quotes (including one by T.S. Eliot) with beautiful black and white photographs of herself.
   The combination looked great, but nowhere was the poet credited with the original genius.
   Another influencer — in a stylized format featuring her name and image — used the words of a popular motivational speaker. An earlier post, in the same branded format, featured a paraphrased quote by Toni Morrison.
   The Instagram post was made to look like influencer was the one offering up such compelling advice.
   It was so wrong.
   I sent a comment to the owner of the post (but not the words), informing her the quote belonged to someone else. “It’s great to be inspired, but share the credit,” I said.
   She quickly responded: “I had no clue it was him as it’s just a widely shared quote without his name.”
   See, that’s the problem; nobody does the research. Nobody takes the time to find the source of their inspiration. Nobody bothers.
   It’s sad because the same device used to create the post has the capability to trace the source of the statement. A Google search is so easy.
   Attribution is important. Behind every quotable quote is a writer, an artist or musician, politician or fortune cookie philosopher who laboured over the correct phrasing or came to them in a flash of brilliance.
   They deserve the credit for the deep thought or clever observation. But, these days, they don’t get it.
   Now, I’m not saying that the people I called out are not capable of such profound thought, but it seems they don’t even try. One of them, by simply taking a phrase that has already made its rounds on the Internet, shows how little she was trying to come up with eye-catching content.
   It’s really too bad.
   Plagiarism is a despicable, duplicitous act. It is ethically wrong, morally reprehensible, spiritually bankrupt, and grounds for dismissal in the halls of academia. It should be a source of shame to anyone who seriously commits such a tasteless endeavor.
   Plagiarism is fraudulent, leaves little to the imagination, and corrupts the concept of free thought. No matter how brave and bold the original work was, it becomes empty of its meaning when it is bastardized.
   I’m not saying that every time you plagiarize a kitten dies, or another COVID-19 variant is released unto the world, for it is more serious than that.  Each time you claim the words of others as your own; you dilute the original message of a fellow human being. At the same time, you weaken your own content.
   Be creative. If there is a point you are trying to make, or you are attempting to inspire or provide insight, use your own words (or give credit where credit is due).
   If you chose to pass along an inspiring quote, be inspired yes, but provide attribution (and don’t just hide it deep down in your content).
   Show you know who said it.
   Show you know what you are talking about.
   Show that creativity is more than a pretty picture and a few happy words
   Show the true worth of the words.
   You’ll feel better about it.
   Believe in yourself, and others will believe it too.
   Be authentic.
   Be you.

© 2021 j.g. lewis

I struggled with it. Yesterday, when the flow was right and each letter appeared to be
falling into the correct order, and as each word seemed to propel me along, I stopped.

A dead stop, an unmitigated stop. An unintended stop; it was more than a pause, more
than a period. A stop, a full stop; a debilitating stop.

One word.

One word was all that was stopping me from continuing with a deeply personal poem I’d
been working on. It was a one-syllable word at that.

I didn’t want to use it.

I searched for alternatives, but nothing else worked. Not one other word, or a series
thereof, could substitute for the word I had used. No other word could convey the rage, or
the frustration, in the exact way this word did.

Fuck.

The F word: it’s one of those words. It’s one of those words that traditionally raise
eyebrows. It’s one of those words you are told, as a kid, you shouldn’t say. It was a bad
word. I remember my brother said, “fuck”, one time, in the company of my parents. It
was the only time. I recall Mom’s eyes bugging out, and Dad always had that look when
he turned angry. I learned then I wasn’t going to make the same mistake, ever. Fuck, no
way.

Yes, its one of those words, one of those fucking words there are really no replacements
for, certainly in certain circumstances and depending, of course, on its usage. Check you
thesaurus; in many or most (probably all) there are no offerings. I’ve got Roget’s Super
Thesaurus 4th Edition on my desk, and it’s not in there. It’s not even offered as a
synonym under ‘intercourse’ (which casts doubt upon the book jacket’s “Amazingly
Comprehensive” claim).

I don’t use it often, not as often as I should or feel like (more in dialogue than
description), and it really has lost its shock appeal; you hear it often in movies and music.

It’s one of those words.

It’s one of those words that has been censored, avoided, painted over, hushed, and stifled for generations. It still appears on public broadcaster’s list of words you cannot say on the
airwaves. It’s one of those words that will get bleeped out. It’s one of those words that
would get your mouth washed out with soap, or get you sent to the principal’s office. It’s a bad word.

It’s one of those words there are no real replacements for, like ‘peace’ (and I realize the
folks at Roget have listed a handful of options for this word but, when you think about it.
there are no synonyms, not in the true sense of the word).

Now fuck is in the dictionary, noun and verb (Oxford here). ‘Sexual intercourse’, ‘mess
about’, ‘fool around’, and, ah, there it is: ‘expressing anger’ (I knew it fit into what I was
writing). It’s no longer listed as slang, as it once was, but it is listed as “A highly taboo
word.”

Come on, fuck off: “highly taboo”?
It might have been taboo, at one time, like even before my Grandparents were
procreating. Yes, there are times when the word just doesn’t seem appropriate (but they
did, by my calculation at least four times), but these days most everybody uses the word,
from politicians to sweet little Grade 3 students, and their mothers.

You hear it all the time; sometimes it is not well used, and other times it is placed
properly. A lot of times it’s as common as ‘um’ or ‘uh’ or ‘like’, like, you know, like,
like that (and I’m sure you do).

It is a word that means so much, and can say so much. It is a word like love (and if you
love, you are probably going to fuck, but you don’t have to love to fuck then it’s just sex
and if it’s just sex then you are going to fuck a lot . . . but I digress).

I’ve heard fuck described as the Swiss Army Knife of words: a word for all purposes
(perhaps not all occasions). It’s so utilitarian, with many functions. It describes rage (fuck
you) and joy or happiness (fuck yeah), sheer disappointment (oh fuck), sexuality and
sensuality (depending on the accent), be it a mistake or a misfit (fuck up), and for a one
syllable word there are so many inflections which make it sound bigger.

It is a useful word, in the right circumstances, and it is a wholeheartedly purposeful word. Fuck is a great curse word. It could, or can I suppose, be a hurtful word. But there are
many and more hateful words in the vernacular that are publicly acceptable and are used far too often. I can think of words associated with any of the isms (racism, sexism,
fascism, capitalism) that I find more offensive, and you can say those words on television
and get away with it (it still doesn’t make it right).

It should probably be used more than it is, but it may never be. There are far too many
stigmas, stereotypes and old wives tales that will continue to silence the word. Sadly.
This world has made progress in so many ways. Times have changed: women can vote
(at least on my continent), my gay friends can marry, and even prime time television
images can graphically illustrate the actions involved when fucking (they just can’t show
certain parts).

Still you can’t say fuck, not everywhere, not when you want to or need to. Not always.
It’s a bad word. Fuck.

But yesterday, despite my best efforts to find another, it was a good word.

It was the right word.

Fuck yeah.

© 2015 j,g, lewis