Archives For politics
My signature on a Valentine’s card
Will fade over time.
But the aching intensity
Of my love
I can’t even go into Walmart
Without some extraterrestrial type
Looking or saying something
That jumps on my amygdala,
And bugs me for hours.
And I can’t go into Walgreens
Without passing a surly associate
Who doesn’t want to be there,
Without hearing a song from the seventies
That brings back feelings
Of being trapped in an elevator
(With an associate from Walgreens)
And I can’t go into Starbucks
Without knowing I’m being ripped off,
But nevertheless hand over the bucks
To the grumpy barista,
And take the gruesome coffee
As finally I’ve made up my mind
To look at last
For a Keurig machine
So I don’t have to put myself through this bitter hell
And I can’t go to a restaurant
Without some dopey brat
As her intellectually challenged
Laugh and look around
To see if we’re enjoying their kids
As much as they are.
Yet I reserve my tears for the movies,
The cinema that died
Such a long time ago.
It’s not just Britney
Texting throughout the film
Or the grossly overweight pensioners
Jamming popcorn into their mouths.
It’s what these actors
Have done to our people,
Brought a darkness instead of light
Into their lives.
Spewed propaganda in between takes,
Because they can.
The joy and happiness
We often found,
In years gone by,
When fantasy was the escape
We wanted, and needed, at times.
Now there is no escape,
Or even a reality,
It’s now all one and the same.
Your voices make little difference,
The wind has the power to defeat
And take away all this dire screaming
But leave blisters and scars on your feet.
You can dress in vaginal outfits,
Give a finger to every young cop
Throw water bottles
At barking Alsatians,
There is nothing to say you must stop.
Urinate on the stars and stripes if you want,
Wipe your feet or your ass on the flag,
Smash up a Starbucks
(But don’t expect to get served),
Smash up banks
(Who financed your candidate),
And shout down the scum who you hate.
But it won’t make any difference
I can assure you,
The bed in the attic’s still there,
The food stamps will keep on arriving,
And the wind will still blow in your hair.
The streets will be cleared in the morning
As sad bitter people disperse,
To the buses and trains and planes waiting,
And the undertaker driving the hearse.
A young man
Came out of the restrooms
Today at an airport
And as all kinds of people were
Collecting their baggage
He pointed a handgun
At their heads
And one by one he killed them
And as blood spilled from the head
He went over to make sure they were dead
Until there was no breath
And death had taken them
On a flight
From the bloody terminal
Into the next world
On a flight path lined with angels
And stars to guide their souls.
Amazing that some are surprised
Kids with no faith
Kids with no strength
(Cowering in a corner)
Against a world that says
You can’t complain
Because you’re white
When the good in people
Wins the battle
Until it can strike
So let it meander
Never ending realm
Until it consumes itself
In its own self rendered rage