national forecast…

an old rusted hull
a mythical ship of state
seduced by greed’s song
to the shores of aeaea
where a sailor’s fate awaits

 

 

 

you see some people die…

our eyes are empty
bloody bodies before us
are invisible
if skin color matches earth
or profit margins decrease 
then lives are disposable
sorry has no place
when balancing a spreadsheet
age of the deceased
hasn’t an entry column
so reserve your heartfelt tears
until some social event
cash contributions
will surely make you feel good
and console your soul
while sipping your martini
a social metaphor for
thirty pieces of silver
well in any case
we’ve all seen people die
how soon we forget

 

 

 

your worth …

the games of nations
make all of us expendable
numbers on a page
bottom line sacrifices
penny change to the wealthy
who profit from our losses

 

 

 

corporatocracy’s statesmen…

ragged edges
of
a dream
protrude from
neatly
tailored words
words
repeated as
a mantra
a mantra
taught
in grade school
and
ever year
thereafter
about
personal responsibility
and
maintaining
a logical approach
to
the world’s insanity
words spoken
in a voice
that
seems to
have never
experienced
joy
for
the little laughter
emitted
sounded as if
it was
prescribed
by
some
school psychologist
as a treatment
for
being different
a suppressed
little laugh
almost swallowed
by
its own embarrassment
clearly
out of place
with
its immaturity
and
surely
not the time
when dealing
with
such grave issues
but
politicians
rarely
are
socially appropriate

 

 

breaking news…

ain’t no breaking news
the same crimes are committed
over and over again
and the dead
still ain’t gonna get justice
for how do you give justice
to the dead
when their ashes are blown in the wind
to new crime scenes
while
those with blood on their hands
dine out on plush patios
wanting the wind to die down
for there’s
too much
dust
in the air

like every year before…

when destitution
permeates society
people seek out and
believe whatever false hope 
is preached by charlatans
who offer up empty dreams
designed to make themselves rich

 

 

 

the same time zone…

these are not
discrete points
this year
from
the next
nor
from
the one
that preceded
they are
a continuum
of
war
hatred
and
greed
and
prayers
prayers
that
have no
endings
nor
answers
we pretend
for
a brief moment
celebrating
with
wine
and
kisses
that
what is coming
will be
different
a temporal oasis
an oasis
surrounded
by
the same desert
we were
just
wandering through
and
must
now
re-enter

how democracy died…

small infected cut
not visible to the eye
but soon it’s poison
entered the body’s blood stream
shutting down vital organs

2023 house of representatives’ agenda…

now
be advised
that
it takes a lot
of
time
to do nothing
well
nothing but
obstruct others
from
doing
what’s right
lord knows
being so divisive
creating
national hostility
between
lifelong friends
and
neighbors
is going to be
quite time consuming
that’s why
i’ll
never have time
to
do my job
oh
i know there
are
a few folks
out there
hoping that my
all-consuming fund raising
and
hell-raising behaviors
should be stopped
and
i should turn
my attention
to
national and international
issues
that directly
affect the lives
of
my constituents
and
i would
seriously
consider
those alternative positive actions
but
i just won’t
have
time

 

 

mavors’ fables…

tell me
no more stories
of
war
i don’t want
to
hear
about
acts of valor
on
the battlefield
or
families left behind
orphaned
by
political
and
corporate greed
no
don’t
tell me
another story
until
you can
raise
the dead