i’ve taken to my bed…

 

doctor says
it’s
all in my head
but
i’m still
having
difficulty breathing
it’s as if
all
that
i’ve believed in
has been drained away
from
my body
so
i’ve taken  
to
my bed
each day
when
i try to rise
i find
that
each
breath
that defines
freedom
has been
taken away
so
i crawl back
to
my bed
wondering
how can it be
that
this nation
once
a symbol
of
freedom
and
justice
has become
a cesspool
of
personal greed
and
arrogance
that’s why
i’ve
taken
to my bed
but
the doctor says
it’s
all
in my head

 

when the wheels come off…

 

i cannot sleep
i hear
the night drums
pounding
within
my head
waking me
a
cold sweat
envelopes my body
in a shroud
of
fear
a civil war
is
coming
history
is about
to
be
repeated
once again
brother
against
brother
blood soaked
passions
will fill the gutters
of
hate and intolerance
a nation
poised
to
self-destruct
fulfilling
ancient prophecies
but
the dead
will not rise
nor
will the meek
inherit
the ravaged earth
they shall be
as
all shall be
the roadkill
of
man’s accelerated
greed

 

unable…

 

through
the glass plate
they
could see
on
the television
how
the world
came together
to
save
those children
trapped
in a cave
in
thailand
how
joyous
it was when
they
were freed
and
on their way
to be
reunited
with their parents
and
they wonder
when
and
if
the world
would
help them
reunite
with
their children
trapped
in the dark
border caves
of
america’s
racism
a nation
drowning
in
its own
fears

 

screevers…

 

been around
for
centuries
those
political craftsmen
creating
freedom’s
sidewalk art
chalk illusions
of
human rights
and
democracy
crafted
to trick
the eyes
of
everyman
throughout history
into
seeing
and
believing
that
they were standing
on
the firmament
of
freedom
but
were in fact
standing
on
the completely
flat
and
unchanging
black asphalt
of
ignorance
and
intolerance

 

must cancel my appointment…

 

sorry sir
ain’t got nothing
in
the bag
no wool
from
sheep
nor
anything else
to make
you
rich
from
my
labors
since
i was stopped
at
the border
by
your
national security force
who
after
caging
me
and
my children
set me free
can’t tell you about my children
but
i suspect
they
nor
i
will be harvesting
your crops
this year
but
from
what
i hear
you won’t
need
them picked
because
of
the trade war
something ’bout
no nation being able
to
afford
what you planted
so
that
stuff
is just gonna
rot
but
not to worry
you’ll still get
your
government
crop welfare check

 

powerless to stop it…

 

there’s always
an antiseptic smell
before
death
as if
we truly
believe
we might
cleanse death
from
our being
it’s
a fragrance
of
age
we know it
all
too well
from
nursing homes
and
hospital halls
but
sense it
even as
we walk
along a city street
it makes us
most sad
when
a passing child
has whiffs
of
death
we wonder
why
and
where is
god
but are
soon distracted
by
armani
arden,
or
fresh-baked goods
until
when naked
in
the shower
we
find
that
fragrance