July 15, 2012

poem 237 of a poem a day for 2012

sugar maple news cycling in ye ol’ USA

a heavy sag weighs down
the leaves this July
as we are burning
with Summer time
every day some fire begins
and we hear the words
wild and untamed
as if we ever had a mastery
over this element
there seems to me
to be a growing disbelief
that our great society

the one that LBJ so named
when he had a more level headed Congress
that was more full of less advantaged members
than today’s versions of back doors and back pockets

there seems to me
to be a growing disbelief
that our great society
was a hoax
meant to coax
the hesitant
into selling their souls
to the big war machine
to the constant turn-over
and over with dead bodies
and slide show presentations

how many civilians
have we killed today
how many soldiers
pay with their lives
force fed yellow ribboned lies
how many have brown skin
or latin names
or were just poor
and needed a job
I keep hearing
that civil war is possible
in the caterwaul of alcohol
in all the cajoles and cries
of the working stiffs
all repugnant and
protecting their pensions
they want to blame someone
so they blame the not so white President
the latency of their regard
is hard to miss
though to be fair
they hated JC too in his day

it’s called the massaged
the message of fans
the watchers of the winds
blowing money into holes
we call musical graves
cue up demands
then bait and switch
the captured reasons
any one not on board
can then be accused of treason
so in this season
that is all heat and bother
we do not need to know
who are founding fathers are
let alone what they have to give
or what they may have been thinking
they were profiteers
they were slave owners
they were nothing but white
land barons, so as you run
your hands over
the barren and the charred landscape
and find insurance companies
have out clauses meant
to save them and not help you
recover your costs
all you need to know is that
all we need is the bleed of mothers
like Demeter in Autumn
with her arms full of seed
and all our pains She carries
that make her look like
She is channeling Atlas sometimes



  1. Your poetry always seems to bring tears to my eyes. You're very articulate, glad I found you! xo naomi

    1. A very astute observation (about the tears) in that most of the "political" poems are born from my crying, in some way, with the question of why...thank you so much for taking the time to read these...I am grateful for it...Edward