Just deserts.
Some get what they deserve.
Mainly they
do not arrive with sweetness
to follow, my friends.
Who would enjoy
or be pleasantly satisfied
with the bitterness
of four and twenty blackbirds
baked in a pie?
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Chris Hanch 6-10-2022
You, young woman, young man,
stand down or take a stand. It is
up to you to ignore or take re-
sponsibility—freedom or cap-
tivity. Many are not afforded
the opportunity. Act or deny.
Ours is to reason why. There
are choices to be made. Live
free or die. The sanctity and
viability of our democracy,
indeed our very humanity is
perilously on the line. Speak
out, vote and act, young woman,
young man. Now is the time!
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Chris Hanch 6-9-2022
Some days are accountable,
meant to make a difference;
some days fall of the ledge
of time and no one knows.
Will it matter if the rent
was paid late one day after
you’re gone? Is one wave
in the ocean wasted?
Does one discordant note
compose a song? Life is
a riddle to be answered
over and over again. Who
is right, who is wrong?
Is history bound to be
repeated by those who
know it or those who
don’t? Did learning
that touching a hot
stove prevents anyone
from getting burned?
Did the Battle of Hastings
in 1066 prevent all wars
which were to follow?
Then why did the nuns
who drummed it into
the skulls of 8th graders
bother to require it on
the final exam? It is in
mankind’s nature to
repeat the sacred or the
profane to our collective
loss or gain. Some will
choose to say “Screw it,”
and either live off the grid
or do absolutely nothing.
It is my opinion that
the future for our Mankind
Saga of indifference and
complacency will not bode
well for us all.
The wolf is hungry;
winter is coming.
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Chris Hanch 6-7-2022
Birds fly through a tedious sky.
Wind flows over a tedious sea.
Boulders lie tediously in my mind.
Tedious words roll endlessly off
The tongue of politicians. Lies
Are the harbinger foreshadowing
The fall of democracy. We are mired
In the mushy manure of complacency.
Tedium becomes the breakfast of
Champions we are force-fed through
The incessantly tedious media. Fools
We are, you and I, believers in mundane
Mediocrity. All the heroes have been
hung out to dry.
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Chris Hanch 6-5-2022
Peace me again...
from the wars,
from the senseless killing
and devastating destruction.
Peace me again...
from the recurring mass murders
of all the innocents.
Peace me again…
from the negligence
of Congress to act
on meaningful gun control.
Peace me again…
from the pending loss of a woman’s
right to choose by the Supreme Court.
Peace me again.…
from the deaths of over
a million citizens
by a nationwide pandemic.
Peace me again…
over the prevailing threat
to our fragile democracy.
Peace me again…
from a society eroded by autocrats
and right-wing race supremacists.
Peace me again…
from the unconscionable man-made
climate crisis on planet Earth.
Peace me…
Peace me…
Peace be to you and me…
to all decent living and loving
people in our troubled society
who have been gravely fractured,
by prejudice and politics,
broken into bits and pieces.
Peace and unity be ours together, brothers and
sisters. Peace and unity, I pray for the common
good of all humanity.
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Chris Hanch 6-3-2022
Consciously awake, I apply science to my reality;
in my dreams, my modus operandi is fantasy. Awake,
I feel pleasure and pain, realize stress and strain.
At times every muscle and bone in my body aches;
in my dreams I’m in a Wonder Land roaming pain
free. Now nightmares offer a different perspective,
one of fear and despair which capture me. Most
generally when I am backed up against a wall
from which there seems no escape, before my
certain demise, I can will myself awake. And I
can arise relieved and safe, but facing the scientific
reality of pain and old age. Yes, my friends, reality
ages with its plethora of disadvantages which asleep
or awake never go away. Science or fantasy, take your
pick—In our given dimension of perception, reality
always prevails.
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Chris Hanch 6-3-2022
The castle on the hill has been abandoned.
No place is safe for king or queen.
The chestnut rolls in the dust.
I was born to be what I was meant to be.
Apostrophes dangle above all of our possessions.
The tortoise withdraws into it shell.
The newborn opens its eyes for the first time
And cries, why?
Not to fret, little one, most of it makes
No sense to me either.
Whether you believe it or not, learn to say,
I’m doing the best I can.
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Chris Hanch 6-2-2022
