March 16, 2016

siamo parte di abbastanza, meschino e politica: a bread and circus poem

Bartolomeo Vanzetti (left), handcuffed to Nicola Sacco (right).
Dedham, Massachusetts Superior Court, 1923.



proprio come per i fantasmi di Sacco e Vanzetti, noi salire e 
scendere come maree e mare: questa poesia si suppone che 
lasciarti con l'amaro, " noi vogliono qualcosa di dolce"



from sail cloth mud rut wagon wheels 
to trolley car accidental, 
what did you purvey today...

we don't often talk about our feelings 
here in our young teeming country 
striving to be a culture too 

that america deserves a president like donald trump 
is no glowing recommendation for hiring 
this high end niche success of a real estate developer 
with his brand relevant market share pre-occupation 

does america deserves a president like george wallace 
because we have lost the ability to see 
a world deserving of humanity beyond ourselves...maybe 

i pledge 
my america deserves 
a president like huey long 
because i have lost the ability to see 
chicanery has replaced simplicity
in this world so deserving 
of my humane self

what do you want 
how much money do you have 
no need to go to anyone else 

the ages of empires 
have long since died off 
and we are merely the puppetry 
of the money lenders fencing 
and fending us off with churches, mosques, temples 
and all other self declared sacred spaces...

we are cultists now, 
dependent on propaganda 
and iconography 
and as long as we string 
bogeyman to bogeyman 
in calendrical recall 
we can use revisionist history 
to stave off the caterwauls 
of the cliffs 

all of us 
have turned into lemmings 
hurtling for answers that 
we may only get 
a brief glimpse of 
from capitulate here on out

meanwhile back at the farm we bought

the u.s. federal government long ago 
lost its paternal 
and or maternal guidance 
and ever since then when ike 
the sheriff of supply side logistics 
warned us of a cataclysm of greed 
slowly seeping into security first doctrine 
we have been selfishly following 
any pied piper we can 
with ropes and hopes 
of spying those who know 
where our piece 
of the pie money is...

but because we have no appetite 
for sacrifice we have given reins 
over to a constantly gerrymandered 
politics as being our game 
of predator and prey 
solutions are varied 
but most often end 
with us getting rid of 
some sort of "they"

and in doing so
we'll keeping losing 
faith, teeth and toes 
just to stay a part of this 
angled angel anger 
mounted in stone...

the ugly stick lottery passed me over again

so i decided to make 
these little sandwiches 
and bring plush terry towels to sell 
to every cold and 
hungry-for-an-identity soul 
milling, rummaging 
and rumbling about 
say how, all along this way 
of going back 
to being salt in the sea 
with a taste of blood 
and iron in your mouth 
they are still thirsty for more 

EJR ©


7 comments:

  1. "so i decided to make
    these little sandwiches
    and bring plush terry towels to sell"

    I like this.

    ReplyDelete
  2. thank you...was going for the pushcart peddler at the end of the world vibe

    ReplyDelete
  3. I like Donald Trump. He's funny.

    Do you really think it matters much who's in charge or who pushes whom around? We're just air, at the end of it all.

    I think you got it right when you said "I Pledge." What's to do, really, but clean and be quiet? I think I'm finished pretending to be alive.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. sometimes the void has handles to hold onto when screaming into it, sometimes it does not...this gives me fits...

      Delete
    2. "Fits" ... like when you're doing a puzzle and you finally get the piece you're holding onto to slip-in against its partner? Not another almost-fit, but the real deal? ... Like that left and right hand, cuffed together up there. Which are you? I was born left, but then forced to be right.

      No biggie. But I was happy to find out one of my kids is a lefty. Maybe she'll get the life I was meant to live. Probably not, though. Such a thing doesn't really exist. Meaning. Life. I. It's all fiction.

      Delete
    3. now that's a good repartee...

      Delete