The Poet is a WWII Veteran and
Citizen of the World.
He cannot forget, close his eyes or fold his reason,
nor can he cap his wit, or keep his pen from writing,
to tell it like it is – Truth in its virginal ironic state.
WEALTH OF THE WORTHLESS
Gold is so awfully golden; heavy;
with more, yet heavier it grows;
the caught bend, under its obligation,
bound utterly to bear it, borne down.
Shame, and dope, and cancer can be cast off
with effort enough and will and failure unfailing –
but not that seizure of gold in the damned-man’s heart:
no sufficiency; not ever; pelf begets pelf.
From A Peck O' Poems for the 99%
THE INVADERS’ BONES
lie scattered abroad
(along with so many they caused to die)
on the way to Moscow, Saigon, Baghdad,
to the Khyber of old, and this day still.
“When you’re lying out there on the Afghan plain”
said the soldier-poet, and said it true,
was it for Action! Devotion? Gain?
the lure that brought you has earned its due.
Those Brits excelled in casting out their unfit;
their malcontent were sent off overseas;
and debtors learned to sing Waltzing Matilda
some rather faced the tomahawk than Old Bailey.
The more the Brits cast out, the more they enfeebled;
and stronger still we contraries became –
till when our foulest felon-President and lush
led their poor Chief into worse crime and blood, ...
How impassively God views a tidal wave
and all the scurrying of beasts and people,
cowards heroes stoics; love panic desperation;
time flows onward evenly; they struggle; they drown;
some live; insufferable pain and loss
this is the cold random real world at its work.
And where was He? ...
Like Bush trapped in his topgun pilots togs
at his supreme moment, proclaiming triumphantly
his mission accomplished
when his destruction of Iraq was yet barely begun
and its ultimate million deaths still unsuspected
and the civil and moral defilement not yet up to speed,
when hope still lingered, for what was not to be:
there is his moment, frozen in time, forevermore.
BUSH, THE RESOLUTE
We're staying in Iraq until they all agree
on a Constitution, just like ours, which cannot be;
and as long as they shall fight against our occupation,
doubtless forever, and die for the freedom of their nation,
so long, says Bush, will be our noble war, defending
our wobbling grip on Beltway power and treasonous spending.
So, says Bush, loftily, we'll stay as long as necessary.
We should rotate our troops to visit home more often
so there'll be more kids, who'll line up to replenish
our troop strength, down the road, for Jeb.
From The Long Shadow of The Bush