Mythos & Marginalia

life notes between the lines and along the edges

  • This Uncomfortable World

    In the bigger picture there is love.  
    In this life there is evil, hatred, and death.  
    Even greater misfortunes compound and 
    threaten our existence. Inconceivably so. 
    Wars rage against humanity, our prayers  
    for peace continually ignored. 
     
    I cannot understand what I can do. 
     
    Unfortunate we can’t feel it all, or feel at all,  
    through the depths of desolation and abomination  
    we read about or view on technicolor screens  
    within our comfortable existence on 
    this side of the planet.  
    This uncomfortable world. 
     
    I feel hopeless when I want to feel love. 
     
    Hatred has spread like ash across the globe with  
    a greater vengeance than the fires that consumed us  
    throughout the year. Fingertips trace our hopes,  
    deftly scratching the surface, a dignified definition  
    we can only dream on. The climate has changed 
    geopolitically and environmentally.  
     
    I can’t understand the cause. 
     
    I cannot comprehend the convictions.  
    Humankind needs to scratch deeper; we need to feel.  
    We cannot accept that which we do not understand. 
    I can only want love, even more than peace. 
    I hear the cries, even from a distance. 
    Still, we watch. And still we wait, understandably so.
     

    © 2023 j.g. lewis 

     

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  • more than waiting

    Silently, or suspiciously standing in one place,
    in between unsteady steps I take throughout the day. 
    Waiting, even for a moment. Respite for the time being,
    perhaps, not even knowing why. Questioning, unquestionably,
    each of us continuously striving to keep moving at our own pace,
    Caught up in this human race, surviving, maybe thriving as we try to
    determine the flow we know is best. We think. 
    A little later today, earlier for some, we all have a path; a better way,
    leading to better day. Moving in different directions, sometimes hastily,
    as required. Some of us are simply limping along.
    The weight on our shoulders slows us down. We must, once
    in a while, stop and let it settle. Far more than waiting. Unconscious
    thinking, our minds move, even if our feet are firmly planted. Progress
    not always certain, we can only hope our intentions continue
    propelling us further. It has to be more than hope,
    yet we still we try to keep it all in stride.

    © 2023 j.g. lewis

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  • spoken truth

    I hear you, more than I listen to myself.
    Messages of caution or concern,
    statements of grace, sentiment
    not fallen on inattentive ears.

    The words we can,
    the words we must,
    the words we say.
    The words we trust

    And this. And we, are we
    even comfortable with our vocabulary?
    Do we know or can we tell,
    right words from the wrong?

    Conversation or confrontation, depending
    on your situation, those same words mean
    something else to someone else.
    It’s becomes even more difficult to tell.

    The words we say.
    The words we hear,
    spell out misunderstanding.
    Injustice. Pain or fear

    Shared experience, descriptions,
    details, doubt and deception at times
    difficult to put into words.
    Our emotions demand that they must.

    Honesty is what it is, as it has
    always been, but spoken less and less
    more and more. It matters not how you
    express yourself, only that you do.

    © 2020 j.g. lewis

     

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  • only recall

    It is not what I have done, but what I still must do.
    Reminders, lists; they come to you, without warning.

    A song. A sound, a scent; shades of the past, of
    time long expired or relationships that didn’t last.

    Grocery lists of what to get, sticky notes remind you
    of what not to forget. Still, I often do. Or I will try.

    How can I decide? Indecision pushes it all to the side
    or out of sight. Only recall allows it to survive. Inside.

    Little bits and pieces of unnecessary nonsense strewn
    about the stacks of essential things that must get done.

    Amidst the mental clutter, superfluous stuff to be silently
    sacrificed. Forgotten, until memories come rushing back.

    Trauma will not disappear. It will, over time, dissipate,
    but always remains close enough to feel. Unneeded.

    Reminders are varied, something that serves to keep alive
    clandestine keepsakes. Observed only by yourself.

    © 2023 j.g. lewis

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  • to get by

    Victimless crime.
    Take what is yours, take what is mine.

    Undue violence, the greed, hypocrisy;
    what is left behind when
    we are only accountable
    to ourselves.

    Each of us a shadow,
    most of us forgettable,
    all of us trying
    to get by.

    Beyond the barking dogs, before
    pungent night air strangles any humanity
    from vagrants who piss in corners
    we never visit.

    On the darker side of 3 a.m.

    A wrong answer will get you knifed,
    the wrong needle will leave you dead.

    No one will care.
    Fewer will know.

    Remind me who I am
    before I forget to see.

    Just write
    my name
    in graffiti.

    Claim my sins
    and transgressions.

    I will own up to my responsibilities,

    like a prayer
    like a poem
    like a person.

    © 2018 j.g. lewis

     

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