urban archaeology….

 

graves emptied
of
promises
now
hold the remains
of
beliefs
their flesh
of
hope
eaten away
by
political curs
leaving
bare bones
of
reality
to await
some
future
archaeologist
who will
speculate
on
the rituals
that
lead to
their
barbaric sacrifice
and
burial
in the name
of
some
unknown
demigod
a demigod
like
all demigods
whose
name
is
forgotten
ten minutes
after
death
but
without
precise data
contrived theories
will no doubt
lead
to
tenure

 

ain’t no alternate constitution for charges of treason…

the brown bag prophet
stopped me
and
said
all this discussion
about
people not
applauding
the president’s
incoherent ramblings
the other night
ramblings
leaving
most of them
stunned
in their seats
seems
to be
as they like
to say
a gross misrepresentation
for
this ain’t about
protocol
it’s about
freedom
see
for
those folks
in
washington
that
ain’t read
the constitution
i ain’t gotta
stand
applaud
or
yell out
sieg heil
when the
president
say something stupid
or
presents some alternate fact
and
it
sure ain’t
un-american
to resist tyranny
but
what
is
un-american
and
treasonous
is to
attempt
to subjugate
the people
of this nation
with
a political dogma
of
blind allegiance
to
a single person
instead
of
true
open-minded allegiance
to
the nation
and
to its people
wonder why
they don’t put
that
in
a memo

state of the union…

confiding
to
aunt bea
my frustration
with
the
cartoon characterization
of
the state of the union
and
my reluctance
to
express my opinions
to
others
for fear
of
tribal retribution
she
said
i can still
recall
your
first church solo
how you
stood
as far back
as you could
from
the congregation
embedding yourself
behind
the robes
of
your
much taller cousins
serving
to conceal
the source
of that deep voice
and
tho
you were hesitant
to
sing alone
you soon found
that
others
would join in
with
your hymn
of
praise
i would think
that
any song
of
truth
will be joined
by
others
we must
just
let
our voices
be
heard

just the thought…

the brown bag prophet
was sitting
at
a park bench
staring out
at
the ocean
with
his feet
held up
from
the ground
practicing a new yoga position
i posited
he said
no
just saw some
red ants
as i
was
walking here
and
then got
that
feeling
maybe
there’s some ants
just
below my feet
getting ready
to
crawl
all over me
that
same feeling
one gets
when viewing
today’s political scene
ants crawling
all
over you
invading
that little
space of sanity
that
you still
have left
so
like
so many
in this nation
i’ve gone
into
a fetal position
reminding myself
of
the germinal values
of
this now
dying
nation

the body…

soiled blackened flesh
sunken eyes emptied of hope
blood covered clothing
death’s rancid breath abided
as a nation lies in state