Tears

Boughs, beaming green, dazzled by sun-break, sit.
Motes, spiring white mites, spin swirls in sunshine.
Day brightens.  Tears tear to tatters my heart away.

Summer Smoke

For to catch yon fleeting clouds
Fling wide and far mental nets.


Haze, in golden tawny hues, pervades.
Trees drip foliage of grays and greens.
An ancient, antique light suffuses leaves.


In the vast complaint that's life,
Hops of bitter doubt give flavor;
Incisor bites of sudden insights,
Into hidden truths behind it all:


Summer smoke.

War

Lilies, moving within many emerald multitudes,
Flaring trumpets wearing cloaks of whiteness,
Blend.  Their fair leaning battalions sounding
Capture by sudden explosions in grass-filled
Fields; for far a slender stridency strives
To blare among these common squares.

Summer Storm

Thin slices of silence sandwiched inside heat,
As sharp as words unstated and never said;
Bitter thorns of discourse, hung in stifled air.


Then


Beaten, broken, screaming sentences steam hate:
Summer is a shouted storm on streets in the City.

One of Us

Tattoo genius are most proud to display
Is rebellion; for subject to no sovereign
Are we, nor to any doctrine or decree;
But to our laws alone are we, birthed
In slavery, who've made ourself free.


Satellite to obese others is that fat rest;
Prisoned in narrow orbit of sycophancy.
Repeaters, parroting the public opinion;
Ditto to whatever banality already said,
With no new thoughts to be expressed.


Be than one of us and not one of them!

Fallen Idol

In ascendancy, arrogance was profound.
But in descent, it turns towards nostalgia
For a false past; one that never did exist,
Nor ever could: The Fate of every nation.


Shadows morphing into night fade away;
As its substance, together with its reason
For existence, dissolved.  The People had
No loyalty to the government that's failed.


An opiate of routine smothered renewal.
Hope died and the law of laxity prevailed.
Refusal to fight came naturally to the idle.
A State, once strong, stumbled into decay.

Waiting Room

Though differently arranged,
The destitute and diseased,
Sit here.  They've deserved
To die has said their society.


They're detritus of the nation,
Lost, forgotten so disposable;
Patient in their dispossession.
A canon of despair rules here.


Dementia reigns on white heads,
By angry incomprehension and a
Regency of confusion, crowned;
For this is the terror of the aged.

Fourth of July

These would have us live
In their rubric of venality;
Lead rigid vegetable lives,
Loyal to opportunity only. 


A state which pushes its worse
To multiply and to prosper has
Produced a country of bankers
Who bite, snap, snarl for profit:


Zombies who eat the flesh
From off their fellow man.
So no flags will we salute;
Leave fireworks for fools.

Whiskey Dreams

The moon held in a glass suspended;
Vast, luminous and large, she shines.


Spilled light spelled to amber vapor,
Breath of yellow smoke surrender;


Whiskey dreams.

USA

An ash-pit of sleaze is this America;
As those many who know the least
Are so shrilling of their ignorance.


This is its common man: the duller
They be, the more vocal they are;
The louder they'll shout in a crowd.