D.L. Lang Poetry Posts

Blanton-Kiowa Line

From Blanton up to Kiowa ran the Santa Fe,
her whistles lay silent to this very day.
It all started in 1902 by the DE&G,
stretching across the land just as far as you could see.

Passing through the towns that dotted the Great Plains,
she carried many a man and grain,
transporting stories of love and pain,
even running up those Great Salt Plains.

For ninety odd years, her tracks, they sang
as the street crossing bells, so sweetly they rang,
where the Rock Island line once met the Santa Fe,
greeting passengers as they went on their way.

Bought up by K&E back in 1997,
this line ceased to be—gone to train track heaven.
Old maps and books alone now speak of her station.
Her tool house leaves no trace of its foundation.

Her bridges have now fallen into the river.
No more freight shall she deliver.
The line still vivisects the landscape—
a scarred reminder of past escapes.

The land is divided by a barrier of green—
a line of trees that once shielded folks from the heat
slices through squares of red dirt, hay, and wheat.
In this land that once tilled itself to dust,
only a few tracks remain, just left to rust.

Now no one remembers ole W.B. Blanton,
nor the big white sign for his namesake junction.
He worked the rails from the south to the west,
once touted in the papers as one of the best.

So when you’re out walking that Pine Pass Trail,
just remember the story of these mighty rails.
If they could only talk, the stories they’d surely tell
of the Blanton-Kiowa line that once ran so swell.

Oklahoma Poems Poems from the book Dragonfly Tomorrows & Dog-eared Yesterdays

On Waiting

When Amalek
is President-Elect
“wait and see”
ain’t good enough
for you and me.

Street Prophets

I was out among the street prophets,
yelling about repentance,
so the next generation
can have a happy ending.

What I Thought Was America

What I thought was America
is gasping for air.

What I thought was America
will no longer be there.

What I thought was America
was usurped by those who don’t care.

What I thought was America
has left me with a blank eyed stare.

What I thought was America
came from dusty old scrolls,
written by revolutionaries,
only to be taken by trolls.

Unreal, America 

Identity politics is one confusing stew.
What part of me do you want me to remain loyal to?

The hardworking German immigrant who got injured on the job?
The moral hippie pacifist who refuses to harm or rob?

The kid who was raised Christian but whose soul is a loving Jew?
The working class southern raised American?

The long line of warriors running through my DNA,
the rebels and the patriots,
who sought a better day?

The peaceful spiritual warrior who stands before you today?

In this new haunting paradigm, what do you expect folks to do,
if we get betrayed by the red, white, and blue?

Absolutely, be proud of who you are,
your heritage, your faith,
and to thine own self be true,
but allow everyone else to do that, too.

They have no right to harm me or you.
So speak out for love and justice.
That is what you must do.
For that is the true nature of this red, white, and blue.

Scream it from the rooftops, “I belong here, too!”

Holding On

Spreading sage
to cleanse us all
as we enter a new age.

We are here to meditate
and stop the hate
before it’s too late.

We gave our love to the earth,
hugged each other for all we’re worth,
and sang out notes from the depths of our souls,
crying out for peace.

 

Nothing

I’ve got nothing nice to say
about a man endorsed by the KKK.
Your votes threw me under the bus
for your own economic gain.

Maybe you ain’t racist, you say,
so prove it, and stand up against hate.
This vile rhetoric you enabled
will only further divide our states.

Poems from the book Armor Against the Dawn Poetry

“Peace is…” appears on the album Happy Accidents and the book Look Ma! No Hands! You can stream the poem on Spotify.

Peace is in the middle.
It’s between you and me.
It’s between us and the universe.
It is neither left nor right,
but it’s right not wrong,
solving wrongs long since gone.

It’s the tightrope we walk
between what is needed and wanted
between individual and greater good.
It is how opposing ideas can be both right.

Peace is going with the flow,
but not being afraid to speak up,
to stand up for a better world,
moving slowly towards love
if we all keep moving forward.

Peace is letting yourself be you.
Peace is accepting your duality,
Working on loving your flaws,
and growing your number of strengths.

Peace is not overreacting in anger,
destroying their peace,
but not letting someone run over you,
destroying your own.

Peace is remembering your origins,
but letting where you are teach you,
teach you how to grow into yourself.

Peace is being insightful, not inciteful.
Peace is letting it go and letting it out.
Peace is accepting yourself, not oppressing yourself.
Peace is letting your dreams overcome your fears.
Peace emanates outward in every hug, so hug freely.

Peace Poems Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands

“Peacenik” appears in the book Look Ma! No Hands!

I am a pacifist because I know
what it is like to lose your cousin to war,
what it is like to lose friends over petty arguments,
what it is like to miss your dad now deployed,
what it is like to experience military conformity.

I am a pacifist because I battle
with controlling my own darker side,
with seeing the good in others,
with the being the target of rage.

I am a pacifist because
I believe humankind can do better
than bullets, swords, and bombs,

and maybe the day is close,
when the only necessary arms,
are used for hugs yet to be given,
and feet that once marched to the drums of war
will now only walk hand in hand towards justice.

Peace Poems Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands

If It Bleeds, It Leads

I was 11 when my capital city crashed down.
At 15, the maniacs stormed Rocky Mountain halls.
9 days later. It was my hometown.
A pipe in the bathroom.
For a day off. For a day off!?

I was 18 when the towers burned.
The angels flew and our stomachs turned.
23 at my University. He blew up on a bench.

Every year since there’s been at least three,
Psychos out on their idiot sprees,
Ruining life’s peaceful sanctity.
The classroom halls. The shopping malls.
The movie premieres. We’re all living in fear.

Talk to each other.
Love one another.
Stop this senseless death, my brothers.
I don’t know the cause.
I don’t know the blame.
But damn, society, aren’t you ashamed?

Diagnosing our generational PTSD.
Billions of good people like you and me.
We want the same things.
Black, white, red, yellow, and brown.
We all just long to live free.

Free from the fear and perpetual wars.
Free from those in search of infamy.
Too many innocent lives walking towards
Heaven’s gate so prematurely.

Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology

Witnessing The World

My eyes are scarred by indifference,
But awakened by love every day.
My feet have queued for food oft rotten,
My tattered clothes ache for mending.
What greater pain is there than ignorance?
Dear world, stop your cycles of hate!
Every soul deserves nourishment.

There are no secrets in this life.
Stories’ mad desire to be set free.
In spite of cages, we all have the keys.
We are but puzzle pieces,
Connected by our ancestors’ dreams.
A beautiful artistic masterpiece,
Is just waiting right inside.
Oh how often we deny its existence.
The beautiful duality of life.
Gratitude springs forth from opposites.

Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology

I wrote this when I was a teenager.


The Fight…For Right

It can be tough.
Sometimes you feel as though you’ve had enough.
But keep in mind that it’ll get better.
Don’t give up.
‘Cos the minute you stop,
You have made your biggest flop.
If you have a talent,
Use it.
Don’t screw up.
You can make it big.
All you’ve got to do is try.
Then you can get by.
Don’t put yourself down.
If you believe the meanies,
You’ll drown.
You’re in a sea of people.
Some are mean,
Some are kind,
And some never care.
Some will defend,
Or maybe lend a hand.
Others just want your mind to bend.
In the world you must care,
‘Cos as everyone says,
“Life ain’t fair.”
Other times your opinion,
Is the best.
The best thing to give your life zest.
But you are the charm,
That keeps others from harm.
When you know what’s right,
Then only fight,
For what is right.
You can do it.
Never give up.
Don’t screw up.
Remember what’s right,
And you can win that fight.
You know what to do.
Don’t become gum,
On somebody else’s shoe.
You stand up for good,
Even if nobody else will.
You must remember the fight.
The fight.
The fight for what’s right.
Don’t hurt.
Don’t fight.
Unless it’s a fight for right.
Don’t tag along with wrong.
Become good.
In spite of all the wars and fights,
You can still see the peaceful light.
So join the fight for what is RIGHT!

Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology