Neo-pagans kneel
Before the spirituality
Of natural cycles,
Then drive their SUVs
To Michael’s Craft Store
And buy decorations
For the inside
Of their caves
Where dysfunction behaves
Like a north star
To guide
The rituals
Of individuals
Into cultural practices
So unbreakable
They become unbearable
And lose
Their purpose
In the midst
Of their intentions.

Blessed Already

The Constitution
Is in place,
Yet the nation
Hopes, prays,
And keeps wishing
For good fortune
And divine protection –

May God bless America –

    But what good

Does it do
When the blessings
Are denied, unseen,
Unvalued, and wasted?

    A population unable

To appreciate
Heaven’s blessings
Doesn’t deserve
Heaven’s blessings…

Butterfly Poop

With innocence, curiosity, and wonder,
A girl asked me,
“Do butterflies poop?”
And I was sure they must,
But I’d never seen it,
So I could not answer her
With certainty,
Making her doubt my sincerity,
Which, in turn, bothered
My appreciation for clarity,
So I asked her
To join me
To somehow find the answer –
And we set out
On an adventure
Where not only did we discover
The biology of butterflies,
We experienced a change –

Perhaps coming out of our cocoons –

Learning with each other,
From each other,
And for each other,

    And as we walked back

We were holding hands
And smiling
With our shared knowledge

Carnival Trial

Guilt leads to fear
At irrational rallies
Of support
For a personality
To hide behind,
While authoritarian principles
Find an advocate
Beneath the blustering
Carnival tent
To defend
The crimes
In a travelling trial
Manipulating the denial
Of evidence,
So testimony
Sounds like patriotism
Adjudicated as freedom,
Prosecuted by protest,
And judged by a propped up dream
Of little worth…

When he was serving his 22-year military career, and again when he was earning his MFA from the University of Tampa, Benjamin B. White thought he was a poet. But he has since found out he is not a poet at all. Ben is a witness; what he writes is testimony.