I think we all need to hear something like this now.

I think we all need to hear something like this now.

I try not to get too political…anymore. And yet, it has not escaped my attention that November 5 is much more frightening to many of us than October 31. In that spirit, I would like to wish you all a Happy Halloween and ask that you please vote this year. Our democracy may or may not be at stake, but just in case, wouldn’t it be nice to say its success or failure was decided by a fair vote?

In case you’d like to watch a mini movie in which I read the poem:
It’s been a few days since the end of National Poetry Month, and I’ve been busy writing and editing a newsletter for the store, the literary magazine, my own poetry book…
And today I stopped for a minute and read the news.
Bad idea. Bad. Very bad.
You know how I thought we all rush toward our end? The world is doing that right now. But the end isn’t going to be bright and glorious and swift for us all. It’s going to be slow and painful for the unlucky ones.
Please stop rushing toward it.


There’s a list making the rounds of social media right now of “banned books”. Yeah, it sucks that such a list has to exist. We don’t live in Utopia. But are those books going anywhere? Will you ever have a really difficult time finding a copy of The Catcher in the Rye or The Harry Potter series? Probably not. (Even though J.K. Rowling has managed to piss off just about everyone.)
Why is this?
One simple reason. We may not live in Utopia, but we don’t live in Dystopia, either. Banned books are an effective tool employed by libraries and booksellers. There is no easier way to get your book on the bestseller list than to have it publicly banned. Human nature prompts us to immediately rush out and find out why those books were banned.
There are exceptions to this rule. When six Dr. Seuss books were withdrawn due to “hurtful and wrong” imagery, I had a hard time deciding how to feel about it. The reason for this can be found in And to Think I Saw it on Mulberry Street: “…a Chinaman who eats with sticks…” You might think that would be harmless, but I knew. I spent a large portion of my childhood with an image of Asian people wearing weird pointy hats and eating noodles with “sticks”. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I began to appreciate the beauty of Asian culture. And the fun. I’m a big anime and manga fan, and I’m listening to K-Pop right now thanks to my much less culturally insensitive daughter. Someday I hope to visit Japan, South Korea, China and anywhere else that will allow a humble American.
Yes, those Seuss books are mostly off the shelf or on sale on e-Bay for hundreds of dollars. But what happened to Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind when our “woke” culture wanted to cancel it? It hit number one on the Amazon bestseller list. You can still find it on Amazon, by the way. And the N-word has not been removed. Same for Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. And everybody knows about the success of another “banned” book, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. For the most part, there are no bonfires of these banned books, and even if there are, you can’t burn digital copies and more copies are printed of most of them everyday, anyway.
That’s why when I get requests to feature banned books more prominently in my store, I have to admit I don’t have very many of them. They’re sold out.
Make no mistake. It’s not going to be easy to come back from where we are. “Hard” has more than one meaning.
A Hard Left
By Michelle Garren Flye
Safe footing may take a while.
We’ve hovered so long over the abyss
Trembled with fear, mile after mile
Lips stuttering our tremulous wish
Oh, safety, security, sanity, please
Return to us in our daily life
We know you embody the keys
To free us from all this strife
Now we understand how hell feels
Evil creeping in through marble halls
Peril lingers here, flames lick our heels
Darkness still beckons with wanton calls
We’ve landed just this side of hell
We’ve still got such a long way to go
And our journey may not go well
But at least the direction we now know
Stand still a second before taking a step
Gain your balance, then make a hard left.

Like many, I’ve been watching the developments of the riot at the Capitol Building last week. Probably more than I should…although, maybe not.
You see, at first, I thought it was a bunch of yahoos that overwhelmed an unprepared bunch of basically mall cops. Were the cops even armed with anything but batons and shields? I wasn’t clear. It seemed, at first, like a bunch of rednecks got out of control at a tailgate party.
Over the course of the past week, it’s become very clear, that’s not what happened at all. The rioting crowd was out for blood. And blood was spilled. Some theirs, but a lot of it from the courageous police who were all that stood between the mob and the fragile gears of our democracy.
I think it’s important that we all not only realize this but accept it. Maybe there were good people in that mob swept up by the evil and the hell. Maybe we all need to be on guard because if the events of January 6, 2021 are any indication, hellfire is just a step away.
Hell at Your Doorstep
By Michelle Garren Flye
Hell’s not far away
Pull back the shade
You know it’s there
It doesn’t try to hide
Watch people tumble
Unresisting to the flames
Follow, follow, the light cries
Come and meet your doom
The eagle’s flight wavers
Courageous profiles darken
When hell flames alight
At your very doorstep
Massive gates won’t stop
The press of fiery rage
Stone burns the same
As wooden crosses then
Thorns bleed tears of wine
Drip down marble visage
Don’t look out the window, love
Hell will greet you there

Echoes: For Our Congress
By Michelle Garren Flye
Angry bangs and steps echo
In hallowed halls
While souls scrunch under chairs
And keep silent
To avoid detection
Anguished texts and last-minute calls
Words left unsaid must be spoken
Because time is suddenly ending
A doorknob rattles
(Is it friend or foe?)
Huddle down, small one,
Don’t grab attention now
The loud crashes might be gunshots
Those screams might be a friend
Don’t react, keep your cries quiet
Until someone calls the all clear
Then hold your hands up,
Follow directions through bloody halls—
And welcome the U.S. Capitol to the ranks
The domestic terror list that includes:
Parkland
Sandy Hook
Columbine
Listen to the echoes
And know what they endured
Because of your neglect.

I’m not sure where this came from except my frustration and angst boiled over a bit this morning. It’s sort of an apology to my kids. Give it some thought. Do you owe the next generation an apology?
Gen X
By Michelle Garren Flye
Let’s face it, we fucked up.
So long as we had our bite and sup
We didn’t care who had their way—
We just didn’t have that much to say.
The environment crumbles without our care;
Others struggle—we know it’s not fair.
But those others aren’t us, so why fear?
For them we will not shed a tear.
“We’re so laid back” is what we brag.
“We’ll leave it to others to piss and nag.”
The younger generation will have to fix
The mess we made when we were in the mix.
Retirement looms for us all now.
We’re almost ready to take a bow.
Our children shake their heads in wonder
At the world we’ve left torn asunder.
“Good times,” we say with wanton cheer;
“To better days,” we raise our beer.
All that’s left is to watch it burn
As we patiently sip and wait our turn.

No Protection
By Michelle Garren Flye
You’re right, you know.
Masks won’t protect us.
Science can’t stop the blow
Nor quiet all the fuss.
You can’t hide from despair
And politics won’t save the lost.
Maybe just focus on repair
And not tallying up the cost?
What can help us heal from this?
The neighbor is “other” to the free,
And all that matters is our own bliss.
Is it really too much to hear their plea?
Reach out a hand, fight to converge—
Look behind the mask to the soul.
Only when we find that courage
Can we hope to be made whole.

Hellsong
By Michelle Garren Flye
Betrayal burns, feverish holes
Sprout and fill with flame,
Spilling ash out onto coals;
Leaping up, you’re unable to tame.
Will you watch it all burn?
Where will you go to escape?
No matter which way you turn
The consummation takes shape.
Don’t look for a way out—
Just give yourself to the fire.
The freedom you used to flout
Just a subject for the choir.
Your sins catch up to you here.
Your lies will haunt you again.
Remember them all, embrace fear—
Hell sings out in this last quatrain.
