The Broken Things

Editor’s Note: This selected work is from my new chapbook, The Groundwork of Realization, available on Amazon ($0.99).

The Broken Things
By Thorne McFarlane

Angels fall from the perch they were graced,
Oversized crowns fall from the heads of kings,
The world is a junkyard for the misplaced.
All things lead to a valley of broken things.

High hopes, lofty dreams, inflated egos,
All come crashing down on those below.
Heavy-handed disputes, frivolous pursuits,
Turning men into brutes,
Turning friends into foes,
Sinking the world we know.

So many broken things,
All things are broken.
So many broken things,
All things are broken.

So many broken things,
All things are broken.
So many broken things,
All things are broken.

Broken hearts and broken dreams…
So many broken things,
Greener pastures where angels sing,
Men try to fly with paper wings,
So many people are using broken things.

A vast puddle of broken things…
Success comes at a hefty cost,
For every battle won is a battle lost,
Empty wells, carpets of eggshells,
Personal dungeons are eager jail cells.

Broken things lead to more broken things…
Human beings break other living matter,
Victims battered, innocence shattered,
Now more broken things are scattered.
So many people create broken things.

So many broken things,
All things are broken.
So many broken things,
All things are broken.

So many broken things,
All things are broken.
So many broken things,
All things are broken.

Broken things and empty rattles…
Faceless ground becomes flesh,
Old wounds become fresh,
Winless battles, heavy saddles,
Men try to swim with broken paddles.
So many people are using broken things.

It seems people don’t care about broken things…
A junkyard for the misplaced and the forgotten,
Eyed with suspicion, criticized with no contrition,
Idealistic pursuits, youthful fruits become rotten,
People no longer tend to these broken ambitions.

High hopes, lofty dreams, inflated egos,
All come crashing down on those below.
Heavy-handed disputes, frivolous pursuits,
Turning men into brutes,
Turning friends into foes,
Sinking the world we know.

Angels fall from the perch they were graced,
Oversized crowns fall from the heads of kings,
The world is a junkyard for the misplaced.
All things lead to a valley of broken things.

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Life Lives On Lives

Life lives on lives.
We exist to see the world through another’s eyes.

One man does not an island make.
It is with each other we must affiliate.

We co-exist in this world of ours,
Although goodness and hope seems to be devoured…

And until this world goes empty and dries—
You must never forget that life lives on lives.

“I’ll be there.”

The only saving devices.
In the event of a raving crisis,
Only unity can conquer the violence.

The money we hold is only stone-cold.
Bastardized, pocketed, then given away and sold.
Life is more precious than any amount of gold.

As the anger grew, so did troubles brew…
So many human lives it took—
Written from the sun into a lonely book,
The spoils and the casualties of war,
How many did it take to settle a score?
Shallow men guided by the heat of their own tempers,
Wholly consumed and swallowed,
They wallow in the burning passion of their own embers.

For all the innocent blood smudged between the fog and the smoke,
The fed-up peoples stood up and spoke. They piloted a new generation.
Using this occasion, these same men and women rose to fill a rift in the nation.

For every solid shoulder to carry the feeble,
This became the chance to combat a cycle of evil.
Cutting the loop, they took the forgotten names from the lonely book.
Every forgotten voice,
Each misplaced letter was now made to shine. Vivid and vibrant.
America—a mosaic that was once a pool of islands.
We co-exist in this world of ours,
We make precious our very hours.

Never alone, we walk through the land of the misplaced and forgotten.
We place a shoulder of support for the dejected and downtrodden.

Don’t let the fiery haze guide us to our final slumber.
Life is golden; and age is merely a number.

And though goodness would appear to be devoured,
The voice of reason is forever empowered.

And until this world goes empty and dries,
We must never forget,
Life lives on lives.

This poem is inspired by the wisdom of the great Joseph Campbell who, through his writings, taught me that “life lives on life.” Innately, we are all fumbling for meaning, but perhaps it was never there. We must strive and will, chasing our rightful passion, bringing meaning into our lives and thus enriching the world around us.

Essays on the Common Man (Part II)

Food for the Machine

Don’t feed the system, fight it.

Hear the screams?
The voracious fiend,
When it sets its sights on you,
You become food for the machine.

Don’t feed the system, fight it.

The American Dream, the illustrious pie in the sky,
Satellites, the all-seeing eye in the sky,
Supervision, celestial superstition,
Meanwhile, on Earth, there’s terrestrial schism:
Domestic racism, exacerbated, aggravated,
And elevated by increased terrorism overseas,
Distractions from the dismal fiscal rotaries,
Treading over rough waters, like the economy,
Like teeter-tottery,
Homelessness and poverty,
Declining values of property,
Foreclosure forces some into welfare,
And many fall sick on rising costs of health care,
While every other week presents another health scare,
A perfect storm mixing the right cocktail of conditions,
The exotic recipe appeases the system.

The experts rile feathers, push the right buttons,
Politicians, pundits, say things like it’s all redundant,
Party loyalty, constituents don’t seem to matter,
Just another rung on the political ladder,
Cut budgets while their pockets get fatter.
I’m getting tired of these screaming voices,
Outside noises, media personalities trying to influence choices,
The more you watch, the more you step inside the box,
And you might find it too much to handle, constant scandal,
“If it bleeds it leads,”
Tragedy, corruption, greed,
Murders, robberies, rape,
Sound bites, audio, video tape,
And you might find yourself in far too deep to escape,
Far too deep, in the complex of this prison,
You might find yourself in far too deep, in the bowels of the system.

Hear the screams?
The voracious fiend,
When it sets its sights on you,
You become food for the machine.

Hear the screams?
The voracious fiend,
When it sets its sights on you,
You become food for the machine.

Don’t feed the system.

It is said that no wealth equals knowledge,
And no poverty rivals ignorance.
But education is under-funded,
Teacher salaries slashed, resources hashed,
Under-performing schools leaves communities trashed,
Rising costs of books and supplies, student debt,
Tuition, dormitory and rent, all of it spent,
Trying to stay afloat,
Feel those hands around your throat?
It devours everything it touches,
The system has you in its hungry clutches.

Chasing the cheese, dodging obstacles in the maze,
A rat race, the cheese is overrated but every rat wants a taste,
9–5, 24–7 in the work economy, fast-paced, haste,
But it beats unemployment, or it seems,
Dead-end pay, too many blues, not enough green,
Don’t feed the machine.

Hear the screams?
The voracious fiend,
When it sets its sights on you,
You become food for the machine.

All Things Desired

Strive for love, virtue and placidity in a world of hatred, blindness and drudgery. This is the resonating message from Max Ehrmann’s inspirational poem, Desiderata, which helped shape my personal philosophy on love and desire. The poem underlines that we all desire certain things – be it fame, success or admiration. Yet we are kept in bounds by what I believe is a very conflicted and cynical world. Why are we so critical of dreamers? Why must we dilute hope? Why must we tell our children to dream freely only to then assert that dreams, wishes and wants are nothing more than mere flights of fancy?

Desiderata warns of a harsh world awash with pain, disenchantment and unfulfilled desires. We are encouraged to separate our wants from our needs. We are encouraged to find our place in this universe and fulfill that place obediently. We are encouraged to live a life without regrets, far removed from earthly vexations and tribulations. Although I came to know Desiderata’s words, I quickly realized that knowledge does not always equate to understanding. The attitude of resignation, a sort of passive resistance against the crushing pressures of the world, contained in Desiderata was quite radical to me at the time.

I know that what exists within this world is a cycle of wanton suffering; a system that is indescribable, indefinable and inevitable. No one desires suffering, but perhaps Desiderata is trying to explain that pain is necessary, and that only by the support of each other can we grow to overcome our personal troubles. Most have heard the common metaphor of walking in another’s shoes, that it is impossible to truly understand a person until you know his or her struggles. Growing up, I had my share of struggles and detested others for not understanding my pain. After hearing that expression, I opened up to the painful experiences of others: poverty, divorce, sickness, loss. I learned in time that I wasn’t the only person living in a world of pain. That realization, prompted by Desiderata’s words, strengthened my resolve, and I sought to understand others more deeply and overcome my own pain in the process.

It is very difficult to leave our personal prisons, but when we do we see that we are not alone. The idea that we bear sole responsibility for our successes and failings is a dangerous proposition. I uphold the belief that no man is alone in his struggles. “All men know something of poverty,” W.E.B. Du Bois once wrote. He went on to state that the true tragedy is that “men know so little of men.” I want those who are depressed and lonely and even those contemplating suicide to genuinely consider this truth: You are not alone. What you are experiencing is not unusual or atypical. You are alive not to suffer alone but to find comfort and acceptance by joining in the universal expression of suffering. As expressed beautifully by Ehrmann, “you have a right to be here.”

We desire to be accepted and be loved – human nature defines it. But it’s hard to see love’s true image and easy to seek fake companionship, false acceptance and selfish lust masquerading as love. We are quick in taking illusions, painting them in our image, and labeling them as love. But that fake love is exclusive, and I only was to see those confined to the cold gloom of hospitals, prisons and slums. The unloved. Our desire to experience true love may ultimately be the sum of all desires. Love is the lifelong hankering which the other desires cannot placate or can only satisfy for brief stretches of time. Success, fame, beauty, admiration and the myriad of other desires serve their purpose in attempting to bring us closer to the true image of love.

One of my favorite biblical passages describes how love is patient and kind. Love is not envious and keeps no record of wrongs. One summer camp experience reinforced my faith in the tremendous human capacity for love and compassion. As a teen, I spent one summer at a lakeside camp in New York with adolescents who, like me, have been diagnosed since birth with mortal illnesses. The camp’s counselors and other supervisors were caring to say the least. I saw them talk to terminal young people – not about the pain that society says they are cursed to be born with, but about their hopes and dreams for the future. These counselors were just ordinary men and women with problems of their own, but who brought light to the blind and hope to the desperate. It is not enough to just be there for the one you love but to be there with them. I am sure that every child who left that camp felt blessed to experience love in its truest sense – not the disillusioned world of false love.

I find it difficult to keep peace in the noisy confusion of life. I still get anxious and weary in the face of adversity, but Desiderata’s words continue to be a source of inspiration and guidance. The world is at times hostile to dreamers, leaving them disarmed, disenchanted, disheartened and discouraged. The coming of age brings with it pain, doubt and the “sham” of lost love as we know it. I desire to dream even when I am rudely awakened by life’s unpredictable turmoil. I desire to learn from past mistakes while continuing the precarious undertaking of balancing my desires and needs.

The Image of Love

The Image of Love
Poetry and other reflections by Thorne McFarlane

In the gallery of memoirs, lies the image of love,
Redeeming with the grace and power from above,
In pursuit of humbler things, of all things desired,
In pursuit of invisible blessings are to be admired,
A quiet home, gentle aspirations, the muse of life,
The unbreakable bond between husband and wife,
The darkest of storms always bring the purest light,
Just one ounce of sunshine can sprout seeds of hope,
And the climbing joys overcome the downhill slope,
I see the stars in your eyes, the portrait now painted,
The picture wasn’t at all perfect, but we still made it.

Love is a bridge. If we can build and link both sides together, only then can we rise above the rough waters. If we disconnect and go headstrong, we will surely plummet.

Love is not judging,
It does not take advantage,
It is not faithless.
It does not forsake commitment.

Love is a temporary shelter. It keeps an opened entrance, but also allows an opened exit. If you can’t let love in or let it find its path out of your life, then you won’t have love.

Love is not selfish,
It is not jealous,
It is not pretentious,
It does not take,
It does not expect in return.

Love is an amazing force of human nature. Of all the things on this earth which should matter the most to any person, it is love. Nothing else brings reason to life, essence to humble souls, and redemption to all things. Nothing else is as universal as the image of love. Love is the cure for pain and the answer to injustice. It is timeless each moment and momentous each time. Cherish every moment of love. Don’t let anything obstruct something as precious and prized as the jewel of love.