passe…

now
i know
it’s not fashionable
but
i’m holding on
to
my old
moth-eaten
frayed
and
ragged dreams
i don’t need
any
fancy fantasies
nor
do i want to be
weighed down
by
all
the depressing
shenanigans
coming
from
the white house
i want to continue
to believe
that
this is a country that cares
not only
for its own self-interest
but
for the human rights
of
all men and women
regardless
of
race,
religion
color
creed
or
sexual orientation
you see
i’m
an american
with
the old
true
american dream

 

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

 

defacing graves…

and
what
shall we
tell
the dead
that
all
their sacrifices
for
freedom
were
uncalled for
since
we’ve
surrendered
freedom
to
a snake oil salesman
who
slithers
above
the moral
and
sacred
grounds
that holds
what remains
of
their
mortal frames
those
rotting corpses
that now
sadly
resembles
the human rights
for
which
they
died

open for public use…

open for public use

so long
sought
pursued
with passion
but
when found
it seemed
quite simple
ubiquitous
in nature
expectations were
some golden glowing light
almost blinding
but
it’s
quite
straight forward
where one
listens to the heart
and
denies no one
the right
to live
this thing
called
wisdom

the same old story…

the same old story

aunt bea
was sitting
on the front porch
with a neighbor lady
discussing
how much
things
haven’t
changed
aunt bea
said
you can
put as many ornaments
on a tree
as
you want
but
what lies
beneath
is still
a naked tree
discrimination
is
discrimination
no matter
how many
glitter laws
you put
on the books
such mandates
when held only
by
a thin string
of printed words
will fall
and
shatter
with the slightest
breeze
of ignorance

the lament of st. julia…

ropes
braided
from
strips
of
national flags
were
placed
legally
around the necks
of victims
of
emotional
and
physical
abuse
and
drawn
tight
until
each person
could feel
their pulses
as
ropes
tightened
rhythmically
with each breath
they took
and then
stripped
of
all
human rights
women
stood
breasts
exposed
for
the entertainment
of
crowds
of
onlookers
as
the social gallows
upon which
they stood
opened
the trap-door
of
ignorance

more washington rumors….

 

oh for the love of god
i need to get packing
i heard some folks
in washington
are gonna
repeal medical coverage
to help pay the bills
and then the 13th amendment
something about needing
cheap labor
so i need to get
my things in order
but where will i go
i can’t head for reservations
cause they’re checking
lineage if there’s a casino
and if there’s no casino
the 13th has
already been repealed
i could go to france
since i’m not a gypsy
i’d be okay in israel
since i only have one
or two arab friends
but on second thought
they have army draft
and i couldn’t shoot
anyone who looked like me
you know having
eyes, mouth, nose,etc.
i’m not japanese
so i could go china
but not germany
germany’s already said
diversity’s dead
england’s out
our rules came
from there first
maybe I could
just hitch a ride
on one of those
space shuttles

caution high voltage lines…

My friend Toni Cross has done it again…presented me with a photo and challenged me to write a poem based upon what I see…without any background information …just based upon what I see….of course in the true spirit of poetic brother/sisterhood I have sent her a photograph with the same detailed information that she provided me….I certainly hope you enjoy each of our poems.

 

 
 

Challelnge Photo From Toni L. Cross

sorry
i have some
bad news
for you
the power
has been off for years
in this damn societal enclave
the only thing running through
these lines
is yesterday’s dreams
this recycled ball of trash
that we have been living on
ain’t worth the cost
of the security system
we keep spending billions
on a worn out corner of the globe
that erupts in smoke and ash
flowing with blood-red lava
through the veins of history
shakin’ like some old damn car
just before the wheels fall off
yet
folks we elect
keep telling us
for national security
we must spend more
for an old wooden door
with rusty hinges
shut tight
years ago
with nails
of fate
and
neglect
for true
human
rights