We live in a world of what ifs.
What if we did something else,
or what if we weren’t there (as
sometimes we shouldn’t be
when it comes down to the
wrong place at the right time).
What if it never happened?
What if we had responded
differently or if we had taken
the advice we were told?
Would we have been so bold?
05/30/2023 j.g.l.
Is what you do enough?
For who?
For you?
Self-doubt?
Self-love?
Self-centered?
Is it selfish to think mainly
of what I need to do for me,
myself, and I?
Why?
When will I find resolve to
my never-ending queries?
Will it be enough?
Do you still doubt?
Do you struggle with answers,
as much as the questions?
Can you decide?
Are you trying?
Is that enough?
05/23/2023 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Errors and misfortunes freely
broadcast across unregulated
airspace
for all to see. And devour.
No space, no time for indignation.
No place for pride, nor gentlemen
worthy
of such ambition.
Nothing remains safe or sacred
in the mesh of sound bites and
sensationalism.
Nothing is permanent.
Except for the scars. Nothing is
everything and then
not at all.
It is all about the power.
All concepts requiring brave
thought overshadowed by a
corrupt few
recklessly tending to so many.
Politics, like commerce, once an
honorable vocation. Now a lowly
blood sport.
We continue watching, transfixed.
Withered victims writhe upon society’s
sidewalks of faith and hope.
Promises
promised. Promises passed over.
Collateral damage in everyone’s
war. A domestic crisis where
nothing
is everything it once was.
©2014 j.g. lewis
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
