change

by

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

 

by

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

 

by

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

 

by

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

 

by

white house money changers…

prayers have dried up
parched lips no longer whisper
words of praise to god
heretics now pour the wine
and eat humanity’s flesh

 

by

in answer to pat…

 

it’s a mere ember
beneath despair’s cold ashes
but freedom shall reign
bursting into red-hot flames
igniting liberty’s torch