There's no need to wonder About how the world broke. That still voice inside me Whispered as it quietly spoke.
Too often we chased Seeking the way over the pedestal With chemicals and technology as we paced And we surrendered doing what was sensible.
With one dirty bomb, the end began. One by one, the world was undone. Time upended as the stains ran. But what ends turns back as it was begun.
A child looks out the broken window, Toward a sky turned macrabe shades of red. Our government's play game the people didn't know, And from there, we will all end up dead.
Taken in sum for recompense, Feelings are real and have consequence. Even the end of the world has time for love, Especially when it fits like a glove.
(c) August 6, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“Prayer does not mean simply to pour out one’s heart. It means rather to find the way to God and to speak with him, whether the heart is full or empty.” – Dietrich Bonhoeffer
“Sad will be the day when the American people forget their traditions and their history, and so longer remember that the country they love, the institutions they cherish, and the freedom they hope to preserve, were born from the throes of armed resistance to tyranny, and nursed in the rugged arms of fearless men.” – Roger Sherman
I'm not that kid anymore. The kid who looked into the backyard Watching the monkeys play, And wanting to play, too.
I'm not that kid anymore. The kid who looked into the rainforest, Just beyond the backyard, And wondering with wide eyes What might be there to find.
I grew into the man starting, Starting the new adventure. I learned of the Shawnee National Forest And found myself looking from the Garden of the Gods. It feels like a place called home, Moving there with no one known, I would make my home there.
I'm not that kid anymore. The kid who dreamed of being Daniel Boone. I am the man who knew he's not, But will explore and photograph just the same.
I am ready to walk this new road, And I will find where it goes. Wherever it is that it may go. There is so much to be seen. I have mapped out the start and will go.
I don't know what I will find there. But I feel it calling me just the same. It sparks inside my soul. The feeling is good, as if it's home. My start of exploration has a feel that's right. I am eager to see what's ahead Because that kid has grown to become this man.
(c) August 5, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“All good men wish the entire abolition of slavery, as soon as it can take place with safety to the public, and for the lasting good of the present wretched race of slaves. The only possible step that could be taken towards it by the convention was to fix a period after which they should not be imported.” – Oliver Ellsworth.
Those who seek reparations do so acting as though the fight South spoke of gradualism in this. While all of good conscience agreed on freedom and equality at birth, what was also recognized were the slave rebellions that naturally had occurred and fear of what to do most safely. This isn’t to justify how long the institution lasted. It is to say the concept of reparations ignores that we as a nation were attempting to find an answer from the beginning. Compromises were made, and we all know that led to the Civil War to end this controversy once and forever at a tremendous cost, including to ancestors of mine.
With a billion views Corporate finds the news. In words of simplicity, There's no room for complexity.
Some might find this a pity, But it's another night in New York City. The paparazzi flashes light While all the glitz blasts the night.
Heroes and villains sing the song. Every moment blogged takes too long. Clawing back shredded credibility Takes more than PR's glossed over ability.
The truth isn't relevant If it's not dressed in elegant. It may not be very nice, But everything has its price.
Manhattan has its madness. Every jump in Uptown has its sadness. They say they're out for credibility While they smile away their integrity.
Heroes and villains sing the song. Every moment blogged takes too long. Clawing back shredded credibility Takes more than PR's glossed over ability
This is the modern world as it chokes, Smiles the circus monkey at its own joke. For those about to swallow and die, They cover it up with another glossy lie.
Silence is found in its infinite wisdom, Standing by in the globalist kingdom. The corporate junkie gives his card with a tease, Knowing full well the emperor has all the keys.
Heroes and villains sing the song. Every moment blogged takes too long. Clawing back shredded credibility Takes more than PR's glossed over ability
(c) August 4, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“I always considered an idle Life, as a real evil, but, a life of such hurry, such constant hurry, leaves us scarcely a moment for reflection or for the discharge of any other then the most immediate and pressing concerns.” – Edward Rutledge
The scars of mistakes made Are deep enough not to fade. As our eyes search for our guiding stars, Sometimes we are embraced by our scars.
The flames of burning hate Distract from our latest grief. The teeth of fire flicker as it grows late, While their ashes speak of belief.
Living water may wash away all sin, But still a mother sings her song of mourning. Some wish for a second chance again, But these dreams fade with each morning.
In the village, life continues As if war has never blown by. Beneath the skin, the pain continues. Still, its easier to laugh than to cry.
The weapons of war poison the heart. It doesn't make for peaceful ways. It is such things from the start That brings the end of all days.
Living water may wash away all sin, But still a mother sings her song of mourning. Some wish for a second chance again, But these dreams fade with each morning.
For some it's a choice of love. Others still will stand and fight. Both follow the traditions of above. Honestly, neither is fully right.
Those who live with intention to kill Follow Satan's not God's will. Those thirsting for blood's awful taste Are mainly known for living their waste.
Living water may wash away all sin, But still a mother sings her song of mourning. Some wish for a second chance again, But these dreams fade with each morning.
(c) August 3, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Heading out of Australia to escape this Aussie winter. First stop Japan, then UK/Ireland and if work doesn't call me back, onto Chicago. I will make it up as I go along
ALOHA PROMISES FOREVER 