Bywords

Every decade all the way back
they cry the death
of the American dream.

A dream I never dreamt
thru all the monotony
of every job held,

every bill paid, every child born
I really can’t remember
ever dreaming

the American dream
nor do I know
what ‘middle class’ means.

* * * * *


The tin man 

all shiny and new 

pretends he really cares 

about me and you,

 with squeaky gesture  

he hides the king’s plan, 

an automated shell 

with a pen in each hand 

to sign away unobstructed 

every founding stone 

to sharpen the contrast 

and deafen the tone 

of passion

Welcome Home Troops!  

The senate refused to pass the Veteran’s Job Bill 

and all this time 

you thought the enemy was over there.


Personally I think anyone who voted against that bill
should be impeached and then tried for treason
but,
I'm just an old Vietnam War vet, disgusted.

SHAME ON YOU AMERICA
or maybe
you got war on your mind and you want to make damn sure
they have no other option but to re-enlist.

Just Look

Look at the tin man, 

hollow through and through, 

jerky little movements, 

a shot of oil will do. 

Now look at the nation 

setting abominations on high 

claiming perfect vision 

with a beam in it’s own eye.

Then look at the least 

where hopes and dreams do end 

reaching out from the abyss 

to pull us all in.

The Pompous Beast 

flicks back it’s hair 

looking down, always down 

from towers obscene 

against blue skies 

laughing at you, 

laughing at your hate, 

laughing at your love

but most of all 

laughing at your fear 

and I love my little world 

but hate the world in which it sits 

and ponder why 

when the question is how 

I come to look down, always down 

from my own tower obscene 

against blue skies

A Slippery Road

To know

without resorting 

to proving

To inspire

without resorting

to competing

To profane

without resorting

to profanity

To win

without resorting

to defeating

To hope

without resorting

to pleading

To own

without resorting

to possessing

To love

without resorting

to being loved

Dry leaves 

we are

falling away

from living limb

to ride the wind

and wave alike

to parts unknown

we accumulate

in heap and pile

we rot or burn.

The News

You saw it on the news so it must be right

yet there’s no real news coverage anywhere.  

Just a conglomerate corporate viewpoint 

and what it wishes to share. 

Then an unavoidable event 

will hit the scene 

but it’s quickly wrapped and packaged 

by forces unseen 

then edited into time slots 

looped endlessly through the night 

and you’ll sit mesmerized 

thinking it’s right 

cuz you saw it on the news.

The only thing that’s going to save us is the one thing we will never do.  

Turn off the news and the news knows that will never happen.

Bleak Horizons

Use to be 

pro golf was a quiet game 

of oohs and ahs. 

Now days 

they shout and scream 

‘get in the hole!’.

Use to be 

narrators called the game. 

Now days 

they chat about anything 

but the game.

Use to be 

we ignored a fool. 

Now days 

they run for the most high.

\

Use to be 

we knew where we stood. 

Now days 

we just sit with gadgets in hand.

Mob Rule

In the mob 

you can really be free 

just the way 

it was meant to be.

In the mob 

you can hate, rape 

and deregulate 

anything you want. 

In the mob 

you can call treason 

concern for a nation 

and get away with it.

In the mob 

you can break and trash 

what you want to smash 

and call it courageous.

In the mob, 

in a spiffy suit 

you can lie and loot 

and rule the world.


* * * * *


There’s plenty who see what’s going on.
More today than ever before
but that won’t stop the knee high boot
from kicking down your door.