Prioritize Identity

“Has someone else the power to say just who you are?”

Question MarkCategorize and rank, that’s something
People like to do

So are you human first? Or are you
Gender? Race? Or you?

Are you a creed? A party?
Or some sort of preference?

Are you defined by money?
To whom you show deference?

Are you a cause? Relationship?
A job or a career?

Or are you determined by
The things you hold most dear?

Are you a college major?
Style of clothes? A type of car?

Or has someone else the power
To say just who you are?

Prioritize identities
That’s what we need to do

There is no “we” to fix things
If we’re not first “me” and “you”

Math Vs Poetry

Math anxiety and writer’s block: why not the other way around?

Fractal Carnival

Wherever you are, you’re on a path –
The careless, the fanatics –
My way has led to figuring
My job is mathematics

I know that many have a fear
Called “math anxiety”;
It’s driven some folks nearly mad
And wrecked sobriety

But yet I found math calming. There is
Something of a light
That comes on when I look and see
I got the answer right

You see, when I took poetry –
Which I have loved for long –
My teachers always told me
I was writing stuff all wrong

Which I thought hogwash. And still do.
A poet should be free
To reveal feelings and display
A personality

But in math, there’s a right and wrong:
A better and a worse;
While poetry is preference
(Mine usually is “terse”)

But in one way they intersect
I hope it is agreed
They each try to make sense of life
That’s something we all need

Inappropriate Poetic Subjects #7 – Staple Removers

“.. a moral failing / that is strange and out of whack”

Staple Remover

My coworkers are standup gals
And guys, every last one:
They work hard and they work smart
And they like to have some fun

But they’ve a moral failing that
Is strange and out of whack:
The steal staple removers, and
They never put them back

Money I could leave on my desk
And it would be there still;
I tried this and I saw it
With a fifty dollar bill

But there’s no set of safeguards
Around which they can’t maneuver
When it comes to making off
With a staple remover

Happy Birthday, Brother

You were always my hero…

Hemisfair 68 San Antonio

I grew up with you, brother
All those decades ago
 You always were my hero
I’ve never told you so

You often had great patience
Until it would run out
And living with me wasn’t great
At times, I have no doubt

But full many a memory
Is shared by you and me
And no one else in this whole world
Can know our history

So happy birthday, brother
From me, your frequent pain;
You’ve help to make me able
I’m just glad you’re not Cain