When I spend all day outraged,

at the latest infuriating tweet or post,

I miss seeing your first steps.

When I spend all day rage texting,

about the latest idiocy,

I miss your first date.

When I spend all day muttering,

about the latest outrage shown to me on my ever present phone,

I miss the door closing when you leave.

I then realize,

I missed your whole childhood in a cloud of media served outrage.

If I could go back in time,

I would,

for you have always been,

the most important thing in the world to me,

but somehow I forgot that.

© words by Dan DeMarle 1/26/21

Who is more American?

Your parents were born here and you wave a flag,

and spout pure hate while doing it.

This child lived through war,

genocide,

walked through a desert,

and ended up here.

They can recite the constitution and know what it means.

They can’t wait to be able to vote.

They know all their neighbors by name.

They look around at all the colors around them and love this country.

They even love you, but are so, so afraid of you.

Who is more American?

© words by Daniel DeMarle 1-25-21

If hope for you is a noun,

turn it into a verb.

If love for you is a noun,

turn it into a verb.

Don’t be hoped for.

Don’t be loved.

Be the one who hopes.

Be the one who loves.

Hope and love together,

is

is

 Your own life and not someone else’s vision of one.

© words by Dan DeMarle 1/21/21

There are a few simple truths,

if you know where to find them.

The fact that light and life,

are as similar,

as dark and death.

The fact that butter does make everything better.

That history is often told in the form of a story.

That the present really is a present, but,

you have to know how to open it.

That grief is often shown at a grave,

and that being in one is often a grave position to be in.

That the sunshine lets me see the shine on your smile.

That putting all those things aside at this present moment,

the gift I give you is neither light nor dark.

It is simply the fact,

that while some truths are indeed simple,

history tells us that many unfortunately are not.

© words by Dan DeMarle 1/18/21

adapted from English Folk Verse – the fifth of November ©

People die all the time.

Every minute, every few seconds,

every hour, every day.

If you could see all of humanity,

you would see a sea of small balloons,

all resting on a giant table.

And all the time new balloons get added.

Yet other balloons POP and are gone.

It happens all the time,

all around you,

but you don’t notice, don’t care.

You are after all a balloon yourself.

You are living your best balloon life.

You may have a small balloon family.

Now all around you balloons are popping.

You may even hear a few pops near you,

and you may say ‘oh that’s too sad’,

but you go on.

But then suddenly,

a balloon next to you.

A balloon you loved, Pops, and is gone!

—

And your whole world falls into the vacuum of that loss.

You end up for some time alone in the shadow,

of the other side of that table,

holding up all those balloons.

Cold and alone.

Eventually, you may see other balloons like you,

alone on the other side.

You may find comfort in being together,

or you may shun them.

But the f’ing reality is …

your whole world has changed.

..

You will eventually rise up to be with all the other balloons,

but you will never be the same again.

You have known loss.

Deep loss.

You can’t un know it.

BUT,

and here’s the great secret.

You can live on.

You can love again.

OR not.

Life isn’t scripted.

Life isn’t prescribed,

Each life, each balloon,

Has its own path,

or multiple possible paths,

life truly is a choose your own adventure book.

You also know,

each life, is unique.

Once you have been on the other side,

you will always see things a little differently.

You will always know the secret to life,

the great secret everyone runs away from.

Life ends…

Knowing that the question is,

how will you spend the time you have left………..

© words by Daniel DeMarle 1/7/2021

For sale – a bag of dreams,

some are faded and well used,

some are brand new,

some are tarnished and have lost their luster.

some have been fulfilled,

some have not.

Some are childish.

Some will make you cry,

like the ones wrapped around an used pacifier.

There are way to many dreams of true unending love,

and romantic getaways,

or of what to do on vacations never taken.

The price?

just a few pennies from heaven.

© words by Dan DeMarle 1/5/2021