Each passing season brings new discovery. Hidden within our unintentional etymology, Each season brings its liberation from history. When treated as newly known, it brings liberty.
The scholars pretend that it brings new value, As if these were never noticed by me and you. After living a lifetime, it's gotten old, Pretending something revolutionary has been told.
We relax as we continue to grow, Learning as we have all there is to know. But there is always more to pretend to know. If we learn well enough, in time maybe it will show.
We've endured the best of the American dream, Funny, isn't it, how we want to wake up and scream. Half the country still wonders if this is as good as it gets, While a significant minority has absolutely no regrets.
That's the thing about a country growing and learning, It only leads to more and more dissatisfied yearning. Yearning for those things we don't have or yet know. This is how, in life, we are encouraged enough to grow.
So it is with the music that we manage to play, Never staying the same but changing in delicate ways. With each new pattern expressed, our souls begin to yearn For the unknown notes we've never heard, and we have yet to learn.
That's how we go about reaching creativity - When we are good and ready with receptivity. These are the moments truly worth living for, And they are waiting, ready for us to open the doors.
(c) September 26, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“Every prudent and cautious judge … will remember, that his duty and his business is, not to make the law, but to interpret and apply it.” – Justice James Wilson (1742-1798) ,Member of Continental Congress, signed Declaration of Independence; U.S. Supreme Court Justice and delegate from Pennsylvania, inLectures on Law (1791)
Least I forget one of the most cherished parts of my life… Happy National Daughters to two of the best living beings in God’s creation – Angelique and Sierra!!
I hear from some voices to accentuate The closest approximation to the positive. Sometimes that's hard with all the dysfunctionality That comes from being part of the human family.
I have to remind myself that I am not falling, And these voices that I hear aren't necessarily calling. Everything around me and in me will be alright. All that I have to do is hang on and hold on tight.
Not to whine, but this could use improvement. If only I weren't my best source of amusement. Maybe then, I could learn to truly love another, Enough to amuse my worldly sisters and brothers.
All the hard times that hit, like the pandemic, But you can't hide from the deaths of an epidemic. You can only roll and try hard to stiffen your soul. It's tough when you realize all that's out of control.
Life, and the lives we lead, are full of their own taste. It's not the kind that we want to carelessly waste. But it is the kind we want to carefully explore, As you hang on, truthfully hoping for something more.
Not to give anybody more than their share of shame, No one in this world should be pushed beyond blame. But forced hugs don't feel even close to the same As those given with love and without any shame.
These are the faded questions that fill the head As you think about fake numbers and hurtful things said. Like, is pushing so hard at the gym worth the misery As you start to count the days until you're sixty-three?
The evening approaches, and I turn off the ticking clock. It's time to pick up my guitar and start to rock. Isn't it a good way to move past all the future shock When you and I unwind and start to intimately talk?
Isn't it funny, when you finally open your charming eyes And you learn to like that which you once despised? Life is like that, always casting its quiet surprises. You don't always have to dream between moon up and sunrise.
(c) September 25, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world…would do this, it would change the earth.“ – William Faulkner
A Soldier Thinks On War and Peace by Michael Doyle
Santayana told a soldier's life was true, When in a soliloquy written as if for you, He reminded us that only the dead have seen war end. The rest of us? We will fight on, just a little more.
When a soldier loses a rifle, he pays the cost. But what happens to a general when a war is lost? The soldier who has fought with valor is demoted. The politician and his general? They are promoted.
It will do to tell this truth to all within reach, Be it in a whisper or boldly in a speech. Like Sherman, I find war's glory to be so much moonshine. Reaching for my spoonful of glory, I found the blood was mine.
The best of us fight for what we've left behind. I see this, though my eyes are now blind. Only war or music happens when language fails Either way, the rest of us stumble on through Hell.
If, dear brother, you wonder at the inference, I will hint that most of life is a matter of appearances. Your silence now makes you neither weak nor strong. It can be either, but both are simply wrong.
Though we both fought for the necessary and justified, It feels like a crime for which we were brutally tried. The verdict is that there is no war to end all wars, Just a continuing set of ever-revolving doors.
They judge us as among the best with our capability, As we fight their wars to our best tainted ability. Now, I watch you die, and I wonder if it wouldn't be better, If we could only learn, somehow, to live together.
The rulers wage these wars in which we die And though they call me strong, I sit here and I cry. What is the good of war? And how can peace be bad? Those who speak of glory must be slightly mad...
Peace may make for poor reading in history, But to a soldier who has fought, it's no mystery To plainly see the sacrifice without a significant return, And to wonder if mankind will ever truly learn.
This soldier, who has known war, wishes for peace, And if not the sweetness of peace, my release. My soul aches for all the misery that I have brought. Is this truly the victory that we have sought?
(c) September 24, 2925 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“It is the duty of every man to render to the Creator such homage…Before any man can be considered as a member of Civil Society, he must be considered as a subject of the Governor of the Universe.” – James Madison
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 