Observations from the Peanut Gallery

Guilt breeds…it spreads like disease

in the heart of deflectors and liars

so riddle me this—though I might be remiss:

is the art of the deal to conspire?

What motivates all that anger and hate,

if not guilt, then some darkness within you?

What do you conceal behind each rant and spiel

while background and warrants accrue?

An innocent man would have nothing to hide

and truth comes by way of accounting;

yet with each new conflation there comes revelation

your dubious motives are mounting.

So tell me now, sir, why do you stir up,

if not to deter from the queries?

If repeated enough, do the lies become truth

as you spin your alternative theories?

We’re tired of the hatred, the endless debasing

instigation, denigration, and enmity—

when facts are revealed, and if we should heal,

if we find our way back to some sanity…

will these new truths we learned help us hold firm,

will love conquer anger and bind us

or will some other enemy find us?

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Fairy Dust

Magic wand in maestro’s hand

directs the powder where to land,

adorns the firs in lace-edged dress

where fact and fiction coalesce.

Soft on barren twigs alight

painting all in winter white;

and landing on the leafless tree,

to capture in pure reverie.

Smitten by such view, pristine

subscribe to all that lies unseen…

enthralled within this wonderland

concur that sprites have had a hand—

so call it 'snowfall' if you must

but I'm inclined to‘fairy dust!’

© Ginny Brannan 2019